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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25098949">Together, Apart, and Forever</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MHammerman/pseuds/MHammerman'>MHammerman</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>X-Men (Comicverse)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action &amp; Romance, Developing Friendships, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:08:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>42,433</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25098949</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MHammerman/pseuds/MHammerman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an ongoing series of vignettes about the history of Kitty and Kurt's relationship, gallivanting around the globe and across eras, realities, and solar systems. Sometimes, it seems like they've gone everywhere, seen everything. Yet love may be the greatest adventure of all...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kitty Pryde &amp; Kurt Wagner, Kitty Pryde/Kurt Wagner</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>132</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Beach</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is an updated version of a series I originally posted to ff.net. I shined up the old material, and have now added new chapters, with plans to add more! Each chapter is its own short story, set within a gap in continuity, or a quiet moment between events. But you absolutely don't need to have read the comics to read this; I'll do my best to provide enough context to make things new reader friendly. The chapters aren't in chronological order, though I may rearrange it at a future date. Some chapters can be read as fitting into a Kitty/Kurt trilogy I wrote ("Parts of a Whole," "A Different Sameness," and "Whole into Parts"), but you also don't have to read those fics to read this one; everything should be pretty stand-alone. I'm not sure how many chapters there will ultimately be; depends how inspired I feel (and how much time I find for writing, as always!). </p><p>The story was originally rated "T," but has been bumped up to "M" for loving and consensual sexual content. While I suggest the beginnings of some romance-y feelings between Kitty and Kurt when Kitty's a bit younger, I am not trying to suggest anything age-inappropriate between these two. When/if sexy times happen, Kitty will be older.   </p><p>Disclaimer #1: I don't own any of the X-Men, and don't make a thin dime from writing about them.</p><p>Disclaimer #2: Heroes always practice consent and safe sex.</p><p>On to the fic!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This chapter is set in the aftermath of Uncanny X-Men vol. 1 #150. General context: Kitty, who is "13 and a half" and very new to the X-Men, stows away on a mission to confront Magneto. Magneto nearly kills her, has a fit of remorse when he realizes she's "just a child," and takes off (but he still hates the X-Men). This happens after all that :)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>The Beach</strong>
</p><p>Two hours had passed since Kitty had come face-to-face with her first supervillain, and survived. She wasn't entirely sure how, though she had an unsettling premonition dumb luck had a lot to do with it. Her clearest memory from her encounter with Magneto was the pain. The pain had been unimaginable and finally overwhelming, penetrating her limbs, blood, and nerves, even in her phased state. After that, she'd blacked out. She'd come to cradled in Ororo's arms, with Magneto long gone.</p><p>Now, the X-Men were taking their time repairing the Blackbird, enjoying a few precious hours of what passed for downtime amid the sand, tropical sun, and palm trees surrounding Magneto's ruined base. For a while, Kitty had joined them. Gradually, however, the din of voices had begun to overwhelm her in a different way, and she'd been struck with an urge to be somewhere else. She'd needed space and quiet to properly think through how close she'd come to never thinking anything again. And so, she'd ventured some distance down the white sand beach, away from the base, and the Blackbird, and her friends, and found a comfortable spot leaning against the sloping trunk of a palm tree, shaded by its faintly rattling leaves.</p><p>Staring at the calm turquoise ocean stretching out toward the cloudless azure sky, Kitty marveled at the indifference of the landscape. There were no visible signs of the battle that had so recently taken place, no obvious indication that one or more X-Men had almost lost their lives. The water didn't care, and neither did the trees or the birds, soaring on wind currents and watching the waves for food. Kitty shivered in the sunshine, realizing—she could be the birds or the fish, depending on the time of day or the threat they were facing. That morning, she'd woken up believing she was untouchable. She'd end the day knowing she wasn't.</p><p>After a while, she knew she wanted company, but couldn't quite decide what type. She thought about Peter, conjuring in her mind's eye a vision of his blue eyes and black hair, his square shoulders and equally square jaw, anointed with a tiny dimple. Peter rarely smiled, but she imagined him smiling, anyway, flashing his straight teeth at her, for her. Yet try as she might, she couldn't picture his smile reaching his eyes; instead, they remained elusive, always looking elsewhere else, above her head, or behind her shoulder.</p><p>Ororo would be okay, except that Kitty had been feeling confused, lately, about the nature of their relationship. During her three months as an X-Men, Kitty had grown to dearly love Ororo. But there was a distance to her, sometimes, a faraway look in her eyes and a hard line to her lips, hinting at conflicts beyond the present or even the realm of the flesh. Kitty had started to understand some of Ororo's occasional coldness the first time she'd seen her powers outside the Danger Room. Maybe part of Ororo had to stay locked away, for her safety, and theirs; Kitty wasn't sure, and didn't think it was her place to ask.</p><p>Scott was an obvious impossibility, as was the Professor, whose attention was a nightmare at the best of times. Kitty knew exactly how such an exchange would play out. The Professor would ask her what was wrong, assuring her he never read her mind without permission, even as the cool intensity of his gaze suggested otherwise. Logan's company was out of the question only because Kitty was forced to like him secretly. They upheld a silent contract not to acknowledge their growing bond for fear of shattering it; Logan's studied disaffection only allowed for mild teasing and the occasional meaningful glance.</p><p>In the end, the right kind of company came from the last place Kitty expected. She heard a shuffle of movement to her left, and looked up to meet the sound. As she did, the sun flashed in her eyes, turning the approaching body into a silhouette. For a moment, he was only a man—only loosely set, square shoulders and taut pecs above a narrow waist of equally taut abs. His sashaying tail gave him away a split-second before his voice did. To Kitty, the warm, German-accented voice of the man in question was almost as unique as the sleek indigo fur that came into focus as he stepped into the shade, or the two-fingered hand that held out a bottle of water.</p><p>"I thought you might be thirsty," said Kurt. "Not very exotic, but it gets the job done."</p><p>Kitty had stripped off most of her makeshift uniform, but was still wearing her leggings and bodysuit. Kurt, meanwhile, was wearing nothing but a pair of black swim briefs. Kitty was suddenly very conscious of the fact she'd never seen Kurt so very nearly naked, so very close. She looked past the water bottle to his velvet-coated midsection, where patches of his fur were dark and shiny with sweat.</p><p>"Katzchen…?"</p><p>"Sorry," Kitty said quickly, blinking decisively as she accepted the water. "I just… don't think I've ever seen you sweat."</p><p>Kurt raised a skeptical eyebrow. "That's surprising, considering how rarely you see me when I'm <em>not</em> scrambling to save my skin, in the Danger Room or out of it."</p><p>Kitty bit her cheek, and dropped her eyes to her bare toes half-buried in the white sand. She wanted a sip of water, but instead found herself picking the bottle's label with the edge of her fingernail. "Maybe I just never really noticed."</p><p>"Probably because I'm so cool under pressure," Kurt assured her, dropping his shoulder against the tree trunk and folding his arms over his chest. "But in all honesty—fur and tropical temperatures really <em>don't</em> mix. I was designed for cooler climates."</p><p>Kitty didn't feel up to meeting his eyes, those reflection-less, glowing orbs that both repelled and penetrated. She wasn't scared of his eyes anymore—not really. Yet no amount of tropical sun could completely eclipse her memory of the first time she'd confronted them. Three months ago, when she'd been running from the Hellfire guards and then run from Kurt toward the guards, those eyes had conjured every imagined watcher in the dark—the monster under the bed, in the closet, and at the foot of the basement stairs, all of them ready to gobble her up or steal her away.</p><p>Yet the alternatives to Kurt's eyes were almost worse. There was only the humbling expanse of the landscape, her own body, or Kurt's. Kurt hadn't meant to put her in that position, she was sure of it. Peter wasn't wearing any more than Kurt was, and that hadn't bothered her. Or at least, it hadn't bothered her the same way Kurt's body was currently bothering her. Kitty didn't mind gazing at Peter. But she felt strange gazing at Kurt. Partly, she was worried her gaze might become a stare. But she was also worried about the way looking at him sometimes made her fingers start to tingle. The strangeness of Kurt's body seemed to demand touching, if only to confirm under her own familiar hands the reality of its strangeness.</p><p>Kitty settled for blurring her vision, fighting a distracted impulse to follow the single bead of sweat weaving its way through Kurt's sleek fur, snaking between the darker ripples of his abs toward the pitch-black crevice of his belly button.</p><p>"Do you really think that?" she asked.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"That you were… designed."</p><p>"In which sense?"</p><p>"I mean—do you really think there's a purpose behind it. Behind us. Behind Magneto. All of it."</p><p>Kurt chose his words carefully. "I think… life is something you're given. Purpose is something you make for yourself."</p><p>"What about mutants?"</p><p>"What about them?"</p><p>"Magneto thinks we're the next step in evolution. That someday, everyone will be like us."</p><p>Kurt took a long breath, and released it. "I don't know if anyone can know that for sure. Coming from Magneto, it sounds too much like a justification."</p><p>Kitty shook her head vaguely, hands tightening around the neck of the water bottle she still hadn't found the courage to open. "I'm not questioning whether I picked the right side, or anything. It's just that sometimes... I wish I understood a bit better what we were fighting for."</p><p>She watched Kurt's two-toed feet flex in the warm sand next to hers, the forked tip of his tail kicking up a small trail of white grains before bending around his ankle. Kitty wondered if he found it tiring to keep his tail off the ground, since it was slightly too long not to drag when hanging straight. Or maybe, she thought, a tail liked to work that way, perpetually making and unmaking the serpentine curves either divinity or genetics meant it to form.</p><p>"When I first joined you guys," Kitty continued, "I wanted to fight for people. For everybody—all the people in the whole world who can't fight for themselves. But most of the time, it seems like we end up fighting for ourselves, against other mutants. Maybe we're the next step in evolution, or maybe… maybe we're just a mistake."</p><p>"Katzchen. Look at me."</p><p>As she raised her head, a gust of wind stirred the palm leaves. In the flickering light, Kurt's eyes alternated between rich gold and pale white. They were still reflection-less, yet his emotions were plain, carved into the pucker of his blue-black eyebrows and the small wrinkles bordering his serious frown. Kurt often joked, but he wasn't joking now. "One person's mistake is another person's opportunity. We can't help how we were born, just as we can't always choose our enemies, or even our battles."</p><p>"So what <em>can</em> we choose?"</p><p>All at once, his face changed, fangs glinting in a narrow ray of sunshine. "Well—our friends, for one."</p><p>Kitty forced a dry swallow, pursing her lips into a half-smile. "Yeah?"</p><p>"Pinky swear."</p><p>Kurt offered up the smaller of his two fingers, and Kitty, hesitating only slightly, wrapped her pinky finger around it, squeezing tightly. Kurt's hands were smooth underneath, and velvet on top. It was the first time she'd felt his fur; the other times they'd touched, he'd been wearing gloves, or she had. She hadn't expected it to be quite so soft, any more than her childhood self had expected the monsters under her bed to feel like the individually named stuffed animals protecting her from them. Demons should be scaly or slimy, not soft like a toy, or the dress she'd worn to her last grade school dance. That thought inspired a jolt of nervous energy, which escaped as a snort of laughter. Kurt chuckled in turn as he released her, swiping the back of his hand across his damp brow before pushing his blue-black hair away from his face, behind his pointed ears.</p><p>"Now…" he began, stepping away from the tree. "Perhaps we should rejoin the others. Ororo's started a campfire, and Logan's grilling rations on his claws. If you're lucky, you may even catch a glimpse of that rarest of spectacles—a Scott Summers smile. And did I mention that colossal Russian you're so fond of also discarded his shirt some time ago…?"</p><p>Kitty frowned instinctively. "I'm not… <em>fond</em> of him."</p><p>"Oh. So you dislike him then."</p><p>"No, I just…" She ground her teeth as she trailed off, then grumbled, "You're the worst, you know that?"</p><p>Kurt cocked his head, grinning lopsidedly. "Would you really have it any other way?" He stepped back to perform a gracious half bow, and extended his hand, palm up. "My lady—your public awaits."</p><p>Kitty chewed her lip as she considered his hand. She did want to accept it. It would feel nice to have his hand around hers again, his soft indigo fingers engulfing her smaller pink ones. But then she remembered her jolt of nerves, and said, "I'm sorry, I'm just... not quite ready yet."</p><p>Kurt straightened, eyeing her. "Are you sure?"</p><p>"Yeah. But I'll get there. I promise."</p><p>"We'll be waiting."</p><p>"I know."</p><p>Kitty watched him leave, heading back toward the crooked line of white smoke rising into the sky above the location of the Blackbird. Even walking in the sand, Kurt was preternaturally graceful, aided, no doubt, by his singular feet. His tail was the crowning glory of his fluid, rolling gate, each slow curve sounding the harmonious rhythm of his supple limbs and lithe muscles. If he were a human athlete, he'd look most like a swimmer or a gymnast, but he moved more like a dancer, someone tuned to finesse as well as power. But his gracefulness was almost too natural, too thoughtless. His simian dexterity was paired with the unconscious elegance of a cat, or any creature whose beauty was both easy and unaware, not sought but simply <em>there</em>, as a function of its being.</p><p>Kitty continued to stare until Kurt rounded another cluster of trees, and disappeared. The she wrenched open the bottle of water, its label torn and dangling, and took a long, deep drink.</p><p>
  <strong>~END~ (for now...)</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I did not invent all the male X-Men wearing speedos in this issue. This was a thing that actually happened (style at the time?), and I spent so much time thinking about it, I had to write a whole fanfic about it, lol. It totally doesn't matter, but for anyone out there who may be a super big fan of my Kitty/Kurt stories—there's a reference to this story in another fic of mine, called "A Different Sameness." My fics aren't quite a shared continuity universe, but it sometimes amuses me to try ;)</p><p>Next: We jump forward in continuity, to Kitty, Kurt, and Piotr cruising back to the States after the disbanding of Excalibur.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Boat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This chapter is set in and around Uncanny X-Men vol. 1 #360. General context: Moria sends Kurt, Kitty, and Piotr on a luxury cruise ship back to the States to rejoin the X-Men following the disbanding of Excalibur. This doesn't precisely follow what happens in the comic, but is loosely inspired by it :)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>The Boat</strong>
</p><p>"<em>...It was here, on this day, that the world first became aware of the existence of Homo Sapiens Superior, or </em>mutants<em>, those humans born with extraordinary powers, when the terrorist we know only as 'Magneto' attempted to commander the base.</em></p><p>
  <em>Though he was stopped by the outlaws called the X-Men, it was only the beginning of an escalating global crisis.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>With that in mind, Newsminute America now takes on an in-depth examination of the mutant problem, and asks the hard question: 'How far is mankind prepared to go in order to control this threat?'"</em>
</p><p>For no one's benefit but his own, Kurt muttered, "Why must they always call it a 'problem'..."</p><p>Deciding he'd heard enough, he loosened his tail from the ceiling fan, somersaulted to the floor, and switched off the TV. The irony was inescapable. On the cusp of his return to the X-Men after four years with Excalibur, the entire world seemed fixated on history's tendency to repeat itself. Seeing both Amanda and Cerise the night before at Meggan and Brian's wedding reception certainly hadn't helped matters; likewise for his lingering handover. Yet hadn't everything changed, for all of them? Hadn't he gone from a supporting player to a leader? Hadn't Peter gone from a friend, to an enemy, and back again? Hadn't Kitty gone from a young girl to a young woman? And hadn't acceptance of mutants gotten better, during all their long years of giving all they had, sacrificing their bodies and any semblance of a normal life to save the world from imploding and reality from disintegrating time and time again? Poor Rachel had sacrificed even more...</p><p>Maybe he was naive to believe change was possible. Or maybe he'd been blind, cut-off from reality at Brian's Lighthouse, Moira's lab at Muir Island, and in a dozen other dimensions. It was easy, in those isolated and faraway places, to forget the hate and fear that continued to smolder in too many hearts. Not that he could ever truly forget. During his tenure with Excalibur, he'd often gone weeks or even months without thinking about the times he'd been imprisoned like an animal or nearly killed as a monster. Yet those memories returned in dreams, and probably always would. He'd never told anyone that. Not even Amanda, though she must have some inkling; she'd shared his bed regularly enough to know he sometimes talked in his sleep, or woke up drenched in sweat, his heart painfully racing. Sometimes she'd wake to comfort him; other times, she'd mumble it was just a dream, and drift back to her own slumber. Once, he'd gotten out of bed, and found Kitty in the kitchen, blinking into a laptop with a half eaten sandwich abandoned on the counter. She'd looked up when he entered, and the way her face had changed when she'd seen him had nearly compelled him to tell her. Then something on her computer had dinged, and the moment had passed. They'd sat together for a while, drinking tea, and talking, but not about the memory-turned-nightmare that had woken him, in which he'd been back in a cage in Florida, realizing his adventures with the X-Men and Excalibur were nothing but a drug-induced illusion.</p><p>Frustrated by the melancholy turn of his thoughts, Kurt realized he needed company and some different scenery. Unfortunately, securing either of those things meant doing something else he'd grown to hate—using his image inducer to look like someone else.</p><p>He retrieved the Shi'ar-crafted device from the vanity and engaged the disguise he'd programmed as soon as he'd discovered the luxury cruise ship Titania would be escorting them across the Atlantic. In the mirror, he watched his indigo fur and glowing golden eyes transform into the pink skin and blue irises of Leonardo DiCaprio, circa <em>Titanic</em>. The joke was for Kitty's benefit; the movie had been a favourite of hers years ago, when she'd first joined the X-Men. He wondered for a moment about his compulsion to remind Kitty of the past, at a time when he was feeling so unpleasantly reminded of the same. Yet he dismissed the thought as irrelevant compared to the possibility of making Kitty smile. She'd been smiling less lately, and he missed it, in part because he'd been smiling less, too.</p><p>No one gave him a second glance as he made his way up to the deck. As usual, he was struck by how little attention his celebrity impressions tended to garner compared to his real appearance; any human face, it seemed, was less conspicuous than his mutant one. Even after twenty-six years of living inside his skin, it was difficult, sometimes, to imagine how others saw him. When he'd first met Kitty, he'd been thoroughly unprepared for her abject terror; she'd chosen to try her luck with the Hellfire guards rather than accept his help. He'd long since forgiven her, and even blamed himself; he should have stopped to introduce himself before carrying her up the the side of a building. But to his own eyes, he was normal. Because of that, it never stopped surprising him when other people thought otherwise, especially fellow mutants; nothing hurt more than being rejected by other mutants. Despite how thoroughly his mind had forgiven Kitty, there was a piece of his heart that continued to hold back. The best he could do was overwhelm that part with better memories. Thankfully, the past four years had provided many. Amid all the strife, heartache, and weekly battles over the fate of the world, Kitty had been there to make it better, whether by reminding him what they were fighting for, solving every problem he couldn't, or saving his life so many times, he'd actually lost count. He'd grown so used to Kitty being there; would she still be there a week from now, when they were X-Men again? The thought did something strange to his chest, which in turn made him quicken his step.</p><p>When he reached the deck, the midday sun was bright and warm, the pool bustling with couples and families. Yet Kitty and Peter had managed to carve out a sliver of tranquility amid the chaos, slouched in sun-drenched lounge chairs in the furthest corner of the pool deck. One of Peter's hands was resting on his bare midsection, and the other was clutching a recent issue of <em>Art Monthly</em> against the armrest. The Russian X-Man was likely attracting plenty of appreciate gazes, though Kurt couldn't be sure, since his own gaze was helplessly drawn to Kitty. Her face was hidden by enormous Jackie-O sunglasses, and headphones trailed from her ears to the iPod tucked under her right hand, lying limp at her side. She was also wearing a hot pink bikini that showed off all her young, lean muscles and decidedly un-tanned skin; her smooth, pale curves seemed to glow and almost sparkle in the sunshine, like something truly precious, which of course she was.</p><p>Kurt stopped at the foot of Kitty's chair, feeling uncharacteristically tongue-tied. He decided to settle for a simple hello, but neither Kitty not Peter responded to his voice. He panicked for a moment, too used to transcendent disasters. Then he realized—they were asleep, just like normal people, on a normal cruise, after a normal late night. Kurt shook his head, lamenting his own stupidity. But of course, his normal was different from most people's normal. Most people weren't using alien technology to disguise themselves as film stars, and most people didn't have a currently invisible tail, ideally suited to tickling the bare foot of a certain sleeping sunbather.</p><p>Kitty exhaled a high-pitched squeak as she jerked awake, headphones falling from her ears in her haste to scramble upright. A glance was all it took for her to recognize the false alarm. She slung her legs over the side of her chair and looked up at him, frowning.</p><p>Kurt met her frown with a gracious smile. "Ah, the lovely Rose awakens. Would you fancy a tour of the deck?"</p><p>Kitty inched her sunglasses down her nose to properly express her lack of amusement.</p><p>"Too much?" Kurt questioned, cocking a playful eyebrow.</p><p>"At least it's a slightly more modern reference than you usually go for," Kitty offered.</p><p>"A true performer plays to his audience."</p><p>"I liked that movie a <em>long</em> time ago."</p><p>"Not so long ago, from where I'm standing." That was only partly true; at the moment, the young woman sitting at his feet seemed to have very little in common with the slip of a girl he'd met five years before.</p><p>Kitty glared up at him for another long moment, and then sighed, shaking her head in mock lament. "You're right—all these years, and you haven't changed a bit."</p><p>"Is that so?"</p><p>"Yeah, but it's fine—I've gotten used to it." As she said it, a crooked smile crept up her the left side of her mouth, which made everything worth it; anything was worth it to make Kitty smile.</p><p>"Perhaps," said Kurt, "the dull routine of our relationship would benefit from a change of scenery."</p><p>Kitty rolled her eyes. "Sure, why not?" As she reached down to collect her sheer turquoise cover-up, she leaned part of the way over Peter's chair. "You okay here, Peter? Peter...?" But Peter was still deeply asleep behind his sunglasses, fingers sandwiched between the pages of his magazine.</p><p>Kitty abandoned the effort, and pushed herself to her feet. Tossing a thumb at Peter, she quipped, "What hilarious thing should we write on his chest with tanning oil?"</p><p>Kurt almost made a joke about there being space for a entire novel, given the prodigious width of the chest in question. But instead, he found himself saying, "Let him sleep. It's been a long week."</p><p>"More like a long <em>month</em>," Kitty corrected, slipping her arms into her cover-up and tying the sash at her waist.</p><p>"Only a month?" Kurt questioned.</p><p>"You're right," Kitty replied, following him through a gaggle of screeching children toward the port side railing. "It's been a long <em>year</em>. A long <em>many</em> years. A long <em>forever</em>."</p><p>Once they were free of the crowd, they could walk together, and did so, close enough for Kitty's fingers to casually brush his own. Kurt had never told her how much he liked that; he liked how safe she seemed to feel, and how safe she made him feel. He smiled inwardly, realizing that some things, at least, were well in the past, even if others refused to stay buried.</p><p>"Before I came up here," he said, "I was watching the news. Today is the anniversary of the first time Magneto attacked the X-Men. Which reminded me that it's <em>my</em> anniversary next week, too."</p><p>"Anniversary...?"</p><p>"Of joining the X-Men," he explained. "It was seven years ago, next Thursday."</p><p>"How do you like that. Seven years, huh? That would make you—"</p><p>"I was nineteen."</p><p>Kitty stepped past him, and then spun to a strop, pressing back against the metal railing. She pushed her sunglasses onto her head as she placed a hand on her chin, appraising him through narrowed eyes. After a moment, she dropped her hand, shaking her head. "<em>Nah</em>..."</p><p>"What?" Kurt prompted, placing his own hands on the railing.</p><p>"You were never a teenager," she replied. "I bet you just skipped it—went straight from being an adorable fuzz-pile to a wise adult overnight."</p><p>Kurt gave a small chuckle. "Ja?"</p><p>"<em>Ja</em>," she imitated. "Well, how 'bout it, then? What were you like at nineteen?"</p><p>Kurt ran a hand through his rippling hair as he turned his gaze to the ocean. "I don't know... dumb, ambitious... handsome..."</p><p>"Of <em>course</em>."</p><p>"Not all washed up, like now."</p><p>"I don't know—I thought <em>The Aviator</em> was pretty good."</p><p>Kurt flashed a grin. "Did I win the Oscar for that?"</p><p>"Nah—you were robbed."</p><p>"Just as well. Biopics are—"</p><p>"Cheating," Kitty supplied.</p><p>"Exactly."</p><p>In the companionable silence that followed, Kitty turned to copy his pose, leaning on the railing with her gaze directed at the ocean. The landscape was nothing but blue, endless water extending into endless sky. It was definitely beautiful, but also a touch unsettling for someone who was used to relying on an instinctual sense of distances and directions, paired with a preternatural gift for quick escapes. None of those abilities were terribly useful in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.</p><p>Kurt was grounded by the sound of Kitty's voice, and by the fingers she curled over his. "It must have been a lot."</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>"Moving to the States. Leaving the circus, and your family."</p><p>Kurt looked at her, and then down at her hand, real pink on false. "By the time I left, I was happy for a fresh start."</p><p>"You've never told me about it."</p><p>"Haven't I?" It was a rhetorical question; Kurt knew he'd never told her.</p><p>"You also never told me about the time you went back."</p><p>She was talking about two years ago, when he'd met Logan in Witzeldorf to confront a pack of monsters who'd been threatening his old circus. When Kitty had asked to go with him, he'd done something he rarely did—refused her, instinctively, and brusquely. He'd thought he'd been protecting her, knowing his reunions with Logan and his old circusmates would be messy, at best. In retrospect, he wondered if he'd also been protecting himself, though from what, he couldn't precisely say.</p><p>With forced casualness, he said, "There's nothing to tell—not really."</p><p>The hand on his gently squeezed. "I know some of it, Kurt. It's not nothing."</p><p>She was right, of course; she usually was. But when it came to certain parts of his past, being right didn't particularly matter. "Talking about it doesn't really help."</p><p>"You sure?"</p><p>"I'm sure." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't quite the truth, either. Part of him wanted to talk about it, but a stronger part wanted to keep trying to forget.</p><p>"If you change your mind..."</p><p>"I know." He punctuated his words with a reassuring smile and a reciprocal squeeze of her fingers. It felt good to turn the tables; he'd always been better at giving comfort than receiving it.</p><p>They were quiet for a while, listening to bird cries, the echo of faraway voices, and the gentle slosh of waves against the hull. Suddenly, a small boy ran past them, chased by a beleaguered mother. They both kept a watchful eye on the drama, until the mother safely scooped up the boy. As she walked the now-crying child back the way they'd come, she returned Kurt's sympathetic smile before doing a comical double-take. Kitty pressed a finger to her lips, and the mother nodded seriously, silently vowing to keep the secret of her celebrity sighting, at least for the moment.</p><p>Once the mother and son were well on their way, Kitty flashed a rare grin. "Serves you right. Guess it's time to retire that setting."</p><p>"I imagine it will still cause less commotion than my real face," Kurt observed.</p><p>"You think so?"</p><p>"You don't?"</p><p>An odd look passed over Kitty's face a moment she went back to watching the waves. Kurt went with her, wondering what he'd said wrong, and already missing her smile.</p><p>"I wish..." she began, and then sighed, words drifting off into the blue.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"I wanted to change the topic to something cheerier, but I just keep thinking... Here we are, talking about how long it's been. Yet I can't even stand here and look at my friend's real face. It just... It sucks."</p><p>Kurt blinked slowly, savoring a warmth unrelated to the sun. "Danke."</p><p>"For what?"</p><p>"For missing my face."</p><p>Kitty offered another small smile before her gaze flickered away. Yet when Kurt leaned deeper into the railing, she followed him, moving her hand to his forearm. "Anytime, fuzzy."</p><p>The sun slipped behind one of the few round clouds dotting the pale blue sky. Kurt watched the shadow pass over Kitty's arm, her skin changing from warm ivory back to porcelain.</p><p>She remained focused on the water as she asked, "So what's really eating you?"</p><p>"I don't—"</p><p>"C'mon," she scoffed. "You're upset about something. And I don't really think its nostalgia for your circus days."</p><p>"I've just been thinking..."</p><p>"That seems to be going around. About what?"</p><p>He wasn't entirely sure how to answer her, but decided he wanted to try. "Going back... working with our old friends again..."</p><p>"About not being the boss anymore?"</p><p>"<em>Nein</em>. Honestly, that part is a relief."</p><p>"Then are you worried it won't be the same... or that it will be?"</p><p>"I don't know," Kurt replied, searching for patterns in the waves. "Both, I suppose."</p><p>"How do you think I feel? I was fourteen when they—we—left. I've been a member of Excalibur longer than I was an X-Man."</p><p>Kurt regarded her profile. "I never thought of it that way. Are you—"</p><p>"Happy, nervous, excited,<em> terrified</em>..." Kitty shrugged. "You know. The gamut."</p><p>"You?" Kurt teased, nudging her shoulder with his. "Scared?"</p><p>"I might say the same to you."</p><p>"I never said I was scared," Kurt reminded her.</p><p>Kitty met his playful expression with something more serious. "But you are—aren't you?"</p><p>"Ja," he admitted, dropping his smile and his gaze. "A little."</p><p>He felt badly about not considering her feelings. He should have known their return would be hard on her, too. Gently, he asked, "What are you scared of, Katzchen?"</p><p>"They knew me as a kid. But I'm not a kid anymore, Kurt. And—I don't want to be."</p><p>"I will make sure they know that," he promised. "Though I suspect you won't need my help."</p><p>"Why's that?"</p><p>"Because you rarely do. Most of the time, you're the one saving me."</p><p>Kitty hesitated for a moment, wetting and pursing her lips. Then she met his close gaze, and said, "Even if that were true—most times isn't every time."</p><p>When she turned back to the ocean, he continued to study her profile, but did so surreptitiously, a harder task than usual when his eyes weren't his own. He wondered which times she was thinking of. He hoped it wasn't the time at the Cloud Nine research institute, when he'd single-handedly battled back yet another army of monsters with Kitty helplessly paralyzed at his feet. He didn't regret what he'd done that day; he'd kept Kitty and Cerise safe, which was all that really mattered. But he didn't like the idea of her remembering him that way—violent and snarling, with his own blood and that of a dozen other creatures dripping off his scored knuckles. He preferred to remember any of the times he'd teleported them to safety, seizing Kitty's hand or hugging her to his chest an instant before he imagined them somewhere else, and took them there.</p><p>After a time, Kitty said, "I didn't really mean it."</p><p>"When?"</p><p>"When I said you hadn't changed."</p><p>Kurt shot her a questioning look. "Should I be flattered, or concerned?"</p><p>"I didn't mean... I just mean that you're different."</p><p>"In what way?"</p><p>"You're... older."</p><p>"Well that's empirically true..."</p><p>"I mean you <em>seem</em> older."</p><p>"That's better...?"</p><p>Kitty frowned at him and grumbled, "God, you keep twisting my... Just—forget it."</p><p>Kurt knew he'd touched a nerve; Kitty didn't usually back down so easily from his teasing. As a peace offering, he quipped, "My agent says I can play anywhere from 15 to 45."</p><p>"That's quite a range," Kitty returned, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.</p><p>"I did nearly win an Oscar."</p><p>"Nearly being the operative word." Part of her smile broke free, just enough to let him he know he was forgiven, before she swallowed it back.</p><p>Kurt was surprised by his genuine relief. Why was he suddenly so intent on earning Kitty's approval? He hadn't felt like that since...</p><p>In a low voice that was nearly lost to the wind, Kitty said, "It's not so bad, you know. Getting older."</p><p>"No," he agreed seriously. "It's not."</p><p>They fell together into a thoughtful silence. Throughout, Kitty ran her hand along his bare forearm, up to his elbow and down again, fingernails cutting narrow, invisible trails through the subtle grain of his fur before smoothing it flat with her fingertips. Her touch was more careless than deliberate; she was simply enjoying the feel of him while her mind wandered, to where Kurt could only guess. Kurt was used to people touching him that way. He had to be, since it had happened his whole life, a somewhat inevitable consequence of his skin being covered with a thin layer of fur that approximated the texture of velvet.</p><p>Most of the time, it didn't bother him. But the carelessness sometimes did. Before his first teenage intimacies with Amanda, he hadn't properly realized how different things felt for him. He'd thought it was normal to crave being petted and stroked, but he apparently enjoyed those things considerably more than most men. His romantic partners learned quickly, but other people seldom seemed to. He'd often wondered if Meggan had known what she'd been doing when she'd punctuated her hugs by nuzzling her cheek against his neck or rubbing her eager hands down his back or chest, stirring his fur against his clothes. The fact she was an empathic metamorph suggested she must have known. But maybe knowing was what made her to do it; maybe she'd wanted to know how he felt, in more ways than one. For that, he couldn't blame her; each time she'd morphed into a version of himself, he'd badly wanted to touch her, too.</p><p>Kurt shivered, becoming acutely aware, in a way he hadn't been a few moments before, of the motion of Kitty's fingers on his arm. She'd started making circles with her thumb, stroking one way, then the other, the first vaguely ticklish, the second wonderfully soothing. Normally, he wouldn't let that kind of touch affect him. It was just his arm, and it was just Kitty. Yet something had been different, lately. <em>Kitty</em> was different. Since the end of her romance with Pete Wisdom, she'd been more open, wiser, <em>older</em>...</p><p>For another long moment, Kurt watched Kitty's fingers, marking their incongruous friction on his arm's visibly smooth surface. When he raised his gaze to her cheek, the sun burst free of a cloud, flashing in Kitty's hazel eyes and igniting the auburn waves of her windblown hair, turning it into a fiery, shining mane rippling over and around her delicate neck and proud shoulders. During the first weeks he'd known Kitty, Kurt had spent every moment in her presence praying for a smile or touch, anything to let him know she didn't hate him like the Florida circus owner who'd locked him in an animal cage, or fear him like the Witzeldorf townspeople who'd tried to drive a stake through his heart. Now, he was wondering if he should ask her to stop touching him. He could have asked Meggan, too, but hadn't, for the same reason he was now reluctant to ask Kitty—because an important part of him didn't want her to stop touching him, even if her touch was only that.</p><p>Kurt swallowed. When he spoke, his voice seemed to come from somewhere deep inside his chest. "Katzchen, I..."</p><p>As Kitty looked at him, her face abruptly contorted into a sputter of laughter. "Sorry," she managed, shaking her head to clear it. "I forgot you were... God, that's actually hilarious, your voice with that face."</p><p>Kurt slid his arm out of her grip. "Ja, I had almost forgotten myself."</p><p>Kitty knew him well enough to catch the strange look in his stranger's face. "Kurt...? Are you..."</p><p>Before she could finish, their attention was diverted by the intrusion of a long shadow, big enough to cover them both.</p><p>"Ah," said Peter. "Here you are, Katya. And I see you've found an appropriate escort."</p><p>"Hello, Piotr," Kurt greeted, doing his best impression of a smile. "I apologize for stealing your date."</p><p>"With that face, it is understandable," said Peter, his own smile easy. "I had assumed you had not gone far, though between the two of you, that is never a certainty."</p><p>"Shoot," Kitty interjected. "I gotta go back. I left my iPod under my chair. If you gentlemen would excuse me..."</p><p>As Kitty hurried away toward the pool, Peter and Kurt both watched her go, Kurt noting the way Peter's gaze fondly lingered.</p><p>"Going back..." Peter mused, still watching Kitty's winding journey across the deck. "It has been so long. Sometimes I wonder, after so many years..."</p><p>Kurt's voice was flatter than he intended as he said, "Anything is possible."</p><p>"Do you think so?" asked Peter, his own tone light with hope.</p><p>Kurt let the wind answer for him.</p><p>
  <strong>~END~ (for now...)</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh the missed opportunities...! Part of the inspiration for this somewhat melancholy ending is the fact that Kitty, Kurt, and Piotr get attacked by a group of villains while on the cruise, and Kitty gets separated. She and Kurt don't see each other again for a while after that, but have some nice moments before Kitty leaves for college, including the issue in which he gives her a Star of David necklace, which is one of my all-time moments with these two (Uncanny X-Men #163, if you're interested!).</p><p>Some canon refs: the thing at the Cloud Nine base is from Excalibur #62; Kurt's return trip to Germany is introduced in Excalibur #54, and actualized in Marvel Comics Presents #101-108; the thing in Florida is from the 2004 Nightcrawler solo series.</p><p>Next: A jaunt back into the past, with Kitty and Kurt in space during the Brood saga...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. In Space</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This chapter is set during Uncanny X-Men vol. 1 #163. General context: 14-year-old Kitty is still pretty new to the X-Men, who are all in space, fighting the Brood. This is a creative expansion of a real scene from the comic in question.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>In Space</strong>
</p><p>Space.</p><p>There'd been a time when Kitty didn't know how perfectly that word described it. The first time she'd left Earth's atmosphere, she'd immediately realized that nothing—no book, movie, or view through a telescope—could have prepared her for the reality of what lay beyond the tiny blue-and-white speck she called home. The vastness was unimaginable, the all-engulfing blackness broken only by stars so white-hot and blinding, they no longer seemed like stars. They seemed more like holes than points of light, rebellious punches at and through the emptiness. That thought was at once hopeful and terrifying, because there were so very many stars, and she was just one person standing on the observation deck of a single space station, wondering how—or if—she'd ever get home.</p><p>Except that she wasn't really alone. Her friends were with her—Peter, Ororo, Scott, Logan, and Kurt, all of them worse for wear, but wearing brave faces, for her benefit, and their own. And it wasn't really a space station. What she saw as Empress Lilandra's gleaming silver home was really a gooey Brood colony. Scott, Logan, and Ororo could see the truth, but she still couldn't; her perception remained clouded by the mental manipulations of the Brood. In a way, she was happy she couldn't see it. If she could, she might be scared. And she couldn't afford to be scared. She needed to be brave, for her own sake, and that of her friends.</p><p>"I do not like this plan," Peter declared.</p><p>Kitty was pretty sure she knew why Peter didn't like it. It was because she was at the center of it, and he wasn't. Meaning he couldn't be there to protect her.</p><p>"Like it or not, Petey," Logan drawled, "ain't like we got much choice."</p><p>In a clear voice, Scott said, "The important thing is—can you do it?"</p><p>"Ja," Kurt replied, exchanging a look with Ororo before his glowing golden eyes wandered Kitty's way. "Easy as a Saturday matinee."</p><p>"This is hardly the time for jokes, Nightcrawler."</p><p>Kitty saw Kurt's jaw flex at Scott's use of his codename. He raised his eyes to their former leader's visor as he said, "Yes, I can do it. Ororo?"</p><p>Their current leader's voice was strangely flat as she said, "I will manage."</p><p>"Kitty?" Scott questioned.</p><p>Kitty put everything she had into a brave smile, which she pointedly aimed at Kurt. "Let's go steal a spaceship."</p><p>Kurt flashed a brief reciprocal smile, and winked. They both knew—the potential end of everything was exactly the right time for jokes. Kitty looked at Peter next, but he didn't look back. She wondered if he was thinking about Illyana. She wished she could ask him, but there wasn't time. If they didn't act quickly, there might never be time for anything again.</p><p>Several minutes later, Kitty was feeling substantially less confident. She wasn't just looking at the star field anymore—she was very nearly in it, all those white-hot holes getting steadily brighter as they neared the edge of the Brood world's atmosphere. She was clutching Kurt's neck while Ororo gripped his hands, following the wind currents as far as she could into the cold, thin air. None of them were wearing spacesuits or oxygen masks; in fact, they were barely clothed, their borrowed costumes torn and ruined from the battle with Deathbird and the Brood that precipitated their current mission. Kitty wasn't even wearing shoes. She could only imagine what he mother would say, if she knew her only child was running around barefoot in outer space. (Obviously, she wouldn't be telling her.) Later, their plan to hijack Lilandra's ship would seem ludicrous, the insane brainchild of spandex-clad thrill-seekers too young and gifted to properly appreciate their own fragility. But in the moment, there was only the mission, just the current breath and the increasingly difficult next one.</p><p>Kitty craned her neck up and back toward another, more familiar set of lights in the dark. Kurt's golden eyes were there to catch her, his expression unmistakably grave. Maybe, Kitty thought, the time for jokes really was over. As much as she wanted to offer Kurt another smile, she didn't trust her frozen lips, any more than she trusted her next thought—a suddenly fervent desire to press her face against Kurt's neck, and feel the tickle of his fine-grained fur against her cheek. She'd never done that before, and never really wanted to, not until faced with the possibility she wouldn't get another chance. The thought embarrassed her, and then scared her. All at once, she realized there was something worse than dying. And that was the thought of her friend dying if she screwed up her part of the plan.</p><p>Something about that urgency produced a kind of clarity, which found Kitty staring into the star field and riffling through a chaotic series of images from the fastest and most memorable six months of her life. Six months—that's how long it had been since she'd left Deerfield, Illinois behind to become an X-Man. It had taken the same amount of time for her life before the X-Men to seem like a fuzzy, childish dream. Life as a persecuted mutant superhero in a house full of persecuted mutant superheroes hadn't always been easy. Sometimes, she missed her family, and her old friends. But her new friends were pretty darn amazing. Some of them even felt like family.</p><p>With Ororo, she'd felt that bond almost instantly. With other members of the team, it had taken longer. Though he'd tried harder than anyone to befriend her, it had taken her the longest to bond with Kurt. Kitty couldn't pin down a precise moment when her feelings about Kurt had started to change. She wasn't sure when she'd first felt comfortable enough to laugh at one of his goofy jokes, or appreciate the infectious warmth of his fang-tipped smile. But she did remember the first time she'd realized they were friends. It had happened during that other trip to space, when she and Kurt had been voluntary hostages of the Shi'ar.</p><p>They'd spent several days together in the luxurious visitor's quarters of a Shi'ar imperial cruiser, pretending to be model prisoners while secretly planning an escape that would eventually save their other friends, along with Empress Lilandra and, just maybe, the Shi'ar Empire itself. At first, Kitty had regretted her luck at being paired with Kurt; she was sure it would have been far more fun to be marooned on a spaceship with Peter. But by their second night on the ship, when she'd been startled awake by a nightmare and a racing heartbeat that had made it impossible to go back to sleep, she'd changed her mind. Peter would have told her she was being foolish, and tucked her back into bed. Kurt hadn't done that. Instead, he'd gathered up their blankets and pillows, and led her to the enormous observation deck looking out at the blackness and the stars. For hours, he'd sat with her on the floor amid the tangle of bedthings, right next to the seemingly precarious glass that was the only thing separating them from the vacuum of space. He'd listened to her recite the names of the stars she'd memorized from the data banks, and encouraged her to propose new names for the ones she didn't know. When she'd finally fallen asleep, she'd done so surrounded by her pillows and Kurt's, facing the stars. She wasn't sure if Kurt had slept next to her. When she'd woken up, he'd already been dressed and coaxing the food replicator to make her pancakes. They'd come out purple, and tasted twice as sweet as regular pancakes. But it was the thought that counted.</p><p>In the present, Ororo was slowing, reaching the limits of her range. It would be up to Kurt to teleport himself and Kitty the final few miles, to the closest part of the docking ring housing Lilandra's ship. Because Kurt couldn't teleport inside a place he hadn't seen, and Kitty hadn't mastered the ability to phase passengers, Kurt would have to remain outside long enough for Kitty to phase into the docking ring and let him in through one of the airlocks. It was risky, because they'd have to move very quickly; at most, Kurt would be able to survive one or two minutes before he either froze to death or suffocated.</p><p>Ororo's usually rich voice was distant and panting as she said, "This is as far as I can go. The rest is up to you."</p><p>"Take a deep breath, Katzchen," Kurt advised her, sounding similarly winded. "I apologize in advance for the rough ride."</p><p>Kitty nodded, gripping Kurt tighter as Ororo released his arms. Then, with an oddly faint "BAMF" of exploding air, they teleported.</p><p>The next BAMF preceded a wrenching swoon, not unlike being kicked in the gut. Kitty swallowed back a dry heave as she struggled to remember her own limbs, let alone her next move. A quick, blurry glance confirmed Kurt wasn't much better; he was barely able to cling to the ship's hull, one bare indigo hand slipping before he could find the strength and focus to grip. Kitty waited for his tiny nod of assent before relaxing her already rubbery body and slipping through the hull into the docking ring.</p><p>Once she was safely inside, Kitty solidified and collapsed against the deck. For at least ten seconds, she couldn't force herself to move, the suddenly rich air wreaking havoc on her already-pounding head and liquid muscles. She'd barely managed to push herself halfway onto her numb feet when she heard it—a low rumble just arrhythmic enough to be organic. Then came the smell—the sharp iron of blood mixed with dull rot, blowing hot against her bare legs and back.</p><p>Kitty ducked sideways as she turned, narrowly missing being impaled by the sharp, thrashing tentacles of the first Brood she'd ever seen. Its hideously scaly body towered over her as it chortled its insect language through a mouth that was all teeth, three rows and razor sharp. All the bone-chilling stories Kitty had heard, all the mission briefings she knew like the back of her hand, were nothing compared to the reality of confronting such a being in the flesh. It was beyond nightmarish, each swift, fluid motion of its four prehensile tentacles twisting her stomach along with her heart. The worst part was the glint of deadly sentience in its insect eyes, boring directly into hers. It was toying with her, intentionally and maliciously; the Brood wanted her to be scared before she died. If she'd had a moment or brain cell to spare, Kitty would have laughed hysterically at her younger self, who'd thought Kurt was a monster. Clearly, she hadn't known the meaning of the word.</p><p>It was all she could do to stay half-a-step ahead of the Brood as she dove forward, half-running, half-crawling down the corridor and through the closest doorway, into the central control room. She mashed the door lock, but wasn't fast enough; the Brood shot a writhing tentacle into the room, preventing the sliding panels from closing. But the Brood's struggle with the door at least bought her a moment to think. Her eyes roved quickly over the consoles she'd spent weeks studying, supplemented by a recent mind-link with the Professor. She knew the airlocks operated on a common design, and that the outer door wouldn't open until the inner one was sealed, and vice versa. Unfortunately, it was a two-stage process. To open the airlock where Kurt would be waiting, she'd need to access both the central controls and the outside door panel. But the outside panel was currently blocked by the Brood. She could phase through it, of course, but would Kurt be in any shape to help her tackle a giant insectoid monster after spending a minute or two clinging to the hull of a spaceship minus a spacesuit? Even Wolverine would find that a tall task.</p><p>"You are trapped, alien," the Brood hissed, forcing its scaly body the rest of the way into the cramped room.</p><p>Kitty gripped the airlock handle. "Don't come any closer! If you do, I'll open the airlock, and we'll both be dead."</p><p>"You're bluffing," the Brood cackled back. "You humans are too attached to your fleshy hides."</p><p>She was bluffing, but only partly. She could still pull the lever, phase through the Brood, and hit the button for the outside door. If she moved fast enough, the Brood would be sucked into space, while she used her phasing to keep herself safe. But that would be murder. Was it okay to kill a being that was trying to kill her? Logan wouldn't think twice. But she wasn't Logan, and didn't want to be.</p><p>The Brood forced her to think fast, thrusting a poison-tipped tentacle into the center of her chest. Kitty knew the tentacle would pass through her, but still reflexively winced. If it had been six months ago, when she'd still been struggling to reliably control her phasing power, she would have been dead. And so would Kurt.</p><p>The Brood howled with fury. "What is this trickery!"</p><p>It lunged again, wildly this time, desperate to corral its slippery prey. But it still didn't properly understand her phasing power. When its tentacles passed through her a second time, it pivoted awkwardly, sending its tail careening into the control panel for the outside door. Kitty realized what had happened a split second before the Brood did. Amid a deafening thunderclap and a painful rush of air, Kitty held fast to the airlock handle and used her phasing to decrease her mass. She didn't see the Brood die, but she heard it, its blood-curdling, too-human scream echoing down the corridor as it was violently sucked through the airlock, and out into the void.</p><p>The seconds it took for the lock to cycle through felt like an eternity. Long before the wind stopped howling and the corridor started filling back up with oxygen, Kitty had forgotten about the Brood. Her guilt at its anguished death was replaced by the thought of Kurt's grave face framed by the cold infinity of the star field, his golden eyes dimming as his hands and feet slipped on the icy hull. That thought inspired another one that was really more of a body and soul-consuming feeling, but roughly translated to: <em>I'll die if Kurt dies</em>.</p><p>As soon as she was able, Kitty sprinted back down the corridor, stumbling, falling once, not caring so long as she kept moving forward. Blood was trickling down her leg by the time she reached the door where Kurt should be, and slammed it open with a furious, closed fist. She had to wait several more agonizing seconds for the outer section to open and close before the inner door would open. When it did, panels opening an inch at a time, smoothly but entirely too slowly, she was slammed by waves of relief and panic. Kurt was lying face-down on the deck, not collapsed so much as crumpled, far too awkward, and far too still.</p><p>
  <em>I'll die if he dies...</em>
</p><p>Kitty threw herself on his body, flipping him over and hooking her arms under his to drag him into the main corridor, where the air was thicker and warmer. Moving him was harder than it should have been. His stiffness made him heavier, nothing bending like it should. There was ice crusted in the exposed fur on his arms and chest, and she couldn't find a pulse.</p><p>
  <em>I'll die if he dies...</em>
</p><p>By the time she managed to haul Kurt completely into the corridor, Kitty's chest was heaving with exertion and a steadily rising panic, mind and body overwhelmed by all the fear she hadn't allowed herself to feel while soaring through the upper atmosphere or confronting the Brood's snarling teeth and writhing tentacles. She dropped Kurt's arms and swung herself around, straddling his body and gripping his hair in her hands as she shook him once, violently.</p><p>"Kurt...!"</p><p>Then she seized fragments of his clothing and his chest, fingernails scratching and pleading with his unresponsive flesh.</p><p>"Wake up!... dammit, wake..."</p><p><em>This isn't helping!</em> Her brain screamed. <em>Remember your training! You're a freakin' X-Man!</em></p><p>She forced herself to take a deep breath. Then, she squeezed Kurt's nose shut, locked her warm lips against his cold ones, and evacuated her breath into his lungs. She proceeded with a mechanical rhythm as she released his lips, pumped his chest, and then returned to his lips.</p><p>On the third repetition, Kurt coughed dry spit onto the roof of her mouth. Kitty pulled back as he coughed again and groaned, eyelids flickering, and then opening enough to expose a thin white strip of his dimly glowing eyes. Kitty began trembling madly a moment before she collapsed against Kurt's chest, sobbing freely into his cold, damp fur.</p><p>"Kurt..." she managed to gasp. "Oh... oh god... oh thank..."</p><p>Kurt made another pained sound, and Kitty suddenly realized she was the worst place she could possibly be, her whole weight pressed against his lungs. She peeled herself off his body, her cut knee staining the deck with blood as she crawled away. Eerily calm in the immediate wake of her outburst, she watched, still and dispassionate, as Kurt rolled clumsily onto his stomach, retching up thick, red-streaked mucus.</p><p>Finally, he turned over again, groaning as he ran a heavy hand over his face and chest.</p><p>"Katzchen..?" he said, voice tiny and strained in the cavernous silence.</p><p>"Yes, Kurt."</p><p>"Let's not try that again."</p><p>Kitty rubbed an unsteady hand under her wet nose. "You mean... the hanging out in the upper atmosphere without a spacesuit... or the mouth-to-mouth?"</p><p>Kurt's head lolled her way and he smiled—barely, but it was there. Kitty nearly lost herself again at the sight, gagging on a delirious, sputtering laugh. Kurt's laugh was even worse—dry, painful and ragged, more like a struggle to cough or breathe than an expression of mirth. Their pathetic noises echoed against the curved metal walls.</p><p>The sound was still reverberating when Kurt made a move to get to his feet. Kitty hurried to his side to help him, rejuvenated by the feel of his steady pulse against her body when she wedged her supporting shoulder under his.</p><p>As they made their way down the corridor, Kurt said, "So... Do you know how to fly a spaceship?"</p><p>Kitty stopped and stared at him, her red-rimmed eyes widening. "I can't even drive a car."</p><p>"Not to worry," Kurt said lightly, squeezing her shoulder as he urged her forward. "How hard can it be?"</p><p>Finally realizing he was joking, but too exhausted to try a second laugh, Kitty settled for a long, noisy sigh. She didn't notice that Kurt was carrying her as much as she was carrying him. But it didn't matter, as long as they were together.</p><p>Sometime later, they were standing on the bridge of the ship, staring out at the stars through an enormous viewscreen not unlike the one they'd had in their quarters during their last trip to space, and the one Kitty had imagined in the palace that was really a Brood colony. The ship was set on autopilot, heading to the surface to collect the rest of their friends. And then, hopefully, they could go home, or at least get another step—and a few hundred light years—closer. Kitty couldn't stop staring into the void that had killed the Brood and almost killed Kurt, but couldn't swallow the stars. Maybe it would, someday. But not today.</p><p>To no one in particular, Kitty said, "It's amazing."</p><p>"Ja," Kurt agreed, stepping closer. "It is."</p><p>He placed a light hand on her shoulder, which he was forced to slip around her back when she pressed her weight against his side, and rubbed her cheek against his fur.</p><p>She'd figured it would feel nice. How it really felt was better. It felt amazing. Exactly like someone amazing.</p><p>
  <strong>~END~ (for now...)</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Kitty and Kurt were adorable throughout the Brood saga. I feel like the first time they go to space was when they first started becoming real friends? There's two panels from this comic I particularly love. In the first, Kitty is thinking, "I can't waste time sparring with this creep. Nightcrawler needs me!" In the second, Kitty is hauling an unconscious Kurt through the airlock, and thinking, "Oh lord, hear my prayer—let my friend live!" It's very touching :) Speaking of airlocks—do *not* waste time thinking about the science-y elements of this chapter. I have read the comic a dozen or more times, and it doesn't make a lick of sense there, either! (Not that I'd really know either way, of course—I learned all my physics from Star Trek ;))</p><p>Next: Kurt does some remembering in the wake of Kitty's "death." Then—Darkholme! Then I might write something totally new, set in the wake of "House of M"... Stay tuned!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. In Dreams</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This chapter is set soon after the X-Men's move to Utopia/San Francisco, in Uncanny X-Men #500. This chapter also assumes that shortly before Kitty got lost in the big space bullet in Joss Whedon's Astonishing X-Men, she and Kurt had a physical romance. That's all the context you really need for this chapter. But if you want the full story of how I've imagined their relationship getting started, you can check out my other Kitty/Kurt stories ("Parts of a Whole," "A Different Sameness," and "Whole into Parts.").</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>In Dreams</strong>
</p><p>Kurt was cold. It seemed like he was always cold at the X-Men's new home, on the island of Utopia. He knew it was irrational; San Francisco was the most temperate climate he'd ever lived in. Yet knowing the cold was an illusion did little to persuade his head or body otherwise. All it really did was convince him a sweater would be useless. So instead, he let himself shiver in his thin cotton t-shirt, curled inside the wide steel border of the window frame in his quarters, watching the rain pour and dribble down the dark panes of glass. A ghostly shadow of his face stared back at him until he vanished it by pressing his forehead against the window.</p><p>It had been three months since they lost Kitty. No one knew for sure if she was dead, but they did know she was lost—to them, and likely to herself. For those same three months, Kurt had been busy navigating a seemingly unending series of crises and near-death experiences at the now-destroyed Mansion, on snowy mountaintops, and in Russian torture chambers. It had been hell, yet he appreciated the distraction. Anything seemed preferable to where he now found himself—healthy, safe, and alone. In the comparative calm following the X-Men's move to the West Coast, he'd had entirely too much time to think, and when he thought, he thought about Kitty, clinging to the desperate hope she might somehow find her way back, and tortured by the ridiculous fear that after traversing the infinite vacuum of space, she might arrive on the tiny spec that was Earth, and not know where in the world to find him.</p><p>Kurt wasn't sure how many minutes or hours had passed since he'd abandoned his book to watch and then listen to the rain, its hard, steady rhythm broken only by the occasional clap or rumble of thunder.</p><p>It was at the end of one such rumble that he heard a faraway voice speak his name.</p><p>"Kurt."</p><p>When he opened his eyes, everything was different. He was standing, and the rain was sparse within an expansive, blue-grey sky. Kurt absorbed the change calmly until he turned toward the voice at his back, at which point his heart stopped. Because there she was. Kitty Pryde.</p><p>Even greater than the shock of seeing her was his wonder at how much smaller she looked. At first, he was sure it was a trick of perspective. But as she stepped into the hazy circle of light, and he was able to make out her fuzzy slippers, black leggings, and over-sized pink sweatshirt below her creaseless, wide-eyed face, he realized she was smaller because she was younger.</p><p>As she shuffled forward, she tightened her auburn hair inside its messy bun before wrapping her arms tightly around her narrow upper body.</p><p>Stopping at his side, she said, "You hate Canadian beer."</p><p>Kurt looked down at his hand and saw he was indeed holding a bottle of Molson Canadian. "Ja."</p><p>"You really miss him, don't you?"</p><p>Kurt blinked, remembering where he was. It was seven years ago, one week after the formation of Excalibur, a month since he'd woken from a coma and the X-Men had been lost, presumed dead. He was standing on the observation deck of Brian Braddock's lighthouse, on Britain's Atlantic coast.</p><p>Slipping into the routine of memory, he replied, "Logan hated Canadian beer, too."</p><p>"Why did he drink it, then?"</p><p>"He only drank it sometimes. Remembering, maybe. Or trying to."</p><p>Kitty's eyes swept the grey sky. After a moment, she said, "He wouldn't want you to do this, you know."</p><p>"Do what?"</p><p>"Blame yourself."</p><p>"That's... I know that. And I'm not."</p><p>Kitty looked at him, wide eyes damp and serious. "It's not your fault."</p><p>Kurt swallowed. "I never thought it was."</p><p>"Really? 'Cause I have. Thought it was my fault, I mean."</p><p>"And do you believe it?"</p><p>"No. But sometimes, it doesn't really matter."</p><p>Kurt flexed his jaw as he struggled to maintain his gaze, and failed.</p><p>He was staring at his unwanted beer when Kitty asked, "Can I tell you something?"</p><p>"Of course."</p><p>"When we were both... hurt... and they decided to move us to Muir Island, I was glad. At first I couldn't even talk, and then I couldn't really touch anything, and it sucked being around the all the healthy people when I didn't feel like myself. It got so I didn't want to see anyone—didn't want to talk to anyone. But on Muir Island, I talked to you. They said you probably couldn't hear me, but just in case—I talked to you. And I figured, it was probably good I was there. So you'd have a familiar face, for when you woke up."</p><p>Kurt raised his eyes to hers. Now, as then, he could sense how many things she wasn't telling him. He wondered what she'd talked about when she'd known he couldn't hear, and wished he could ask her, while knowing he couldn't.</p><p>"How did you know I <em>would</em> wake up?" he asked.</p><p>Kitty offered a small smile. "Because you're you. And you've been through worse. We both have."</p><p>"Then, or since?"</p><p>It was a rhetorical question. So they both let it hang in the crisp, unsettled air. The rain had stopped, but the sky still flashed and rumbled around them.</p><p>Finally, Kitty asked, "Do you miss teleporting?"</p><p>"It's not so bad," he said. Then, with a small shrug, he amended, "I try not to think about it, I suppose."</p><p>Relieving his words, Kurt was heartsick at his insincerity. The way Kitty dropped her eyes in defeat forced him to confront just how much he'd also kept from her, and that she, too, had always known it. Truthfully, losing his ability to teleport had felt like a vital piece had been ripped whole from his body, or even his soul. Without his gift, nothing was right, in himself or his relation to the world around him. Everything seemed variously smaller and larger; rooms felt claustrophobic, and open spaces felt daunting. All of which left him in a semi-constant state of anxiety, unnerved at least as much by the solidity of walls as the expansiveness of the ocean or sky.</p><p>"I <em>wish</em> I could do that," Kitty lamented, studying her slippers. "But if I stop thinking about staying solid, I start phasing through the floor."</p><p>Kurt considered a thousand impossible responses before saying the most inadequate thing of all. "I'm sorry."</p><p>Kitty mimicked his shrug. "It's more annoying, than anything."</p><p>Kurt wondered if her response might have been different if he'd had the faith or courage to tell her how he really felt. Yet even now, studying her sad eyes and unlined face, hovering on the cusp of a too-early adulthood, he doubted he'd do things differently. Protecting her had been the most important thing.</p><p>"Can I tell <em>you</em> something?" he asked.</p><p>"Dunno. Is it mushy?"</p><p>His lips trembled with all the things he wished he could say, but couldn't—because of the script, and because he didn't know how to say them.</p><p>"Thank you," he said.</p><p>"What'd I do now?"</p><p>"The usual."</p><p>Once again, Kurt hated his words. He hated to suggest there was anything usual about her, here, now, or ever. He wanted to throw his arms around her in apology, to use his body to make up for the inadequacy of speech. But of course, he couldn't—not here, and not now. Maybe not ever again.</p><p>Kitty picked that moment to curl her solid fingers over his shoulder, squeezing gently. Kurt stiffened reflexively. For one, brief moment, her touch was warm, and far-too welcome. A nauseous guilt rushed over him at the thoughts and memories that sprang unbidden to his mind, a whirlwind of images and sensations of Kitty's hands and body, of heat, warmth, and friction, the slap of flesh and an older Kitty's half-lidded eyes clouded with pleasure above her stiffly quivering lips.</p><p>His staggering heart had time to beat twice before his body fell back into the cold, his mind banishing, in the same moment, all the memories and desires associated with the woman he knew Kitty would become. He tried to convince himself it didn't matter, that the luxury of her presence was enough. But of course it wasn't, not after everything they'd shared. Being with her now, like this, having her so close yet so untouchably far, wasn't a comfort—it was a haunting.</p><p>"Come inside," Kitty urged, dropping her hand from his shoulder. "It's still early. We can watch a movie or something."</p><p>"I will. Give me a few minutes to finish this terrible beer, and I'll be right behind you."</p><p>"Okay. I'll get some popcorn started."</p><p>She turned, and made her way back toward the door. Before the threshold, she paused. "Just—don't be long, okay?"</p><p>"I won't."</p><p>Kurt heard the door open and close, and knew he was alone. Again.</p><p>He abandoned his beer on the ground and pushed his hands though his hair before leaning over the railing, closing his eyes as he sunk his head between his arms. While he concentrated on the rhythm of his breathing, it started raining again. The first large, spare drops were like pebbles hitting the ocean, but quickly changed into a rustling hum.</p><p>Kurt didn't know how long he lost himself in that white noise before he felt a faint tickle against his bare forearm. Opening his eyes, he realized he was no longer standing on the lighthouse platform. He was back in a window ledge, though it wasn't Utopia; by the thick oak frame, he could tell it was the Mansion.</p><p>He turned his head, and saw her again. Kitty. The same, but once again different. The face looking down at him was familiar, older, and of course beautiful—more beautiful than photos or memories could ever hope to capture. She was aglow with mirth, eyes glittering, cheeks flushed pink on either side of her coy smile. All at once, Kurt knew exactly when and where he was: it was six months ago, the night of his 30th birthday.</p><p>"Well?" Kitty prompted, backing up and striking a pose. "Do you like it?"</p><p>Kurt realized and remembered she was wearing a golden brown mink coat, double-breasted with rhinestone buttons. It hit at the very top of her pale, bare thigh, the dusty pink lace of her underwear just visible when she performed a graceful pirouette. The collar was flipped up and her loose auburn hair wove itself into the thick, shiny fur caressing her neck and chin.</p><p>"What's the matter?" she teased, pausing mid-turn to regard him over her shoulder. "Jealous?"</p><p>Against his will, Kurt returned her smile, asking a question to which he already knew the answer. "And where, pray tell, did you acquire this miraculous pelt?"</p><p>"It was my grandmother's," Kitty explained. "I found it when we were going through boxes. I hadn't touched any of that stuff since..." she faltered for a moment, but forced back the memory. "Anyway," she continued lightly, stepping closer. "You never told me what you think."</p><p>She held out her hand, fingers half-buried by her long, wide sleeve. Compelled by forces beyond his control, Kurt placed his hand in hers, and rose to his numb feet. Kitty kept a subtle distance as her hands crawled up his arms to his shoulders, caressing his cheek and the edge of his ear before she slipped her hands around his neck, and kissed him.</p><p>The moment their lips met, it all came flooding back, a lifetime of warmth transfused into his hands and body by her touch, with its beautiful weight of love and years. Panic warred with a long-lost calm in the unsteady sigh Kurt released into her mouth. By the time they parted, his emotions had begun to fuse into a mounting anticipation, held in check only by reverence, by the necessity of touching, seeing, and feeling everything, of properly appreciating every sacred moment.</p><p>Circling her ear with his thumb, he lost himself in her hazel gaze, devotedly reflecting his own golden eyes. His other hand made a slow journey down the buttoned front of her coat, fingers sinking into thick seams and waves of fur, searching for the distant curves of her body, made mysterious by the coat's heavy folds. When he reached the bottom edge of the coat, he slipped his hand inside, travelling up Kitty's thigh to the curve of her hip, his fingers tracing the lacy band of her underwear, snug against her taut muscles. At the same time, the hand on her cheek sank into a deep, yielding tangle of hair and fur, searching out the quick, strong beat of her pulse.</p><p>Kurt was sure he'd never meant anything more sincerely when he said, "It's beautiful."</p><p>Kitty blinked, and dropped her gaze, suddenly bashful. "I just thought I'd turn the tables a bit, you know?"</p><p>"If only you had a tail..."</p><p>"Nobody's perfect."</p><p>"I wouldn't say that." He released her hip to touch the clasp at her neck, and proceeded to undo the rhinestone buttons, one at a time.</p><p>"You may be right," Kitty breathed.</p><p>When he reached the final button on her coat, her own hands began wandering up his body, under his t-shirt. He released her long enough to help her slip it over his head, and toss it toward the bed. Kitty pushed his hair off his forehead, tucking it carefully behind his ears, then made her way down again. Kurt watched her watching her own hands as she stroked his chest and shoulders, making circles against the grain of his fur, then smoothing it flat. When she tweaked one of his nipples with her thumb, he closed his eyes, tail lashing against his own leg as a low rumble rose in his throat.</p><p>Her coat fell open as she stepped into his hips. He gathered her gratefully into his body, both hands slipping inside her coat as he pressed his naked fur against the deliciously smooth skin of her bare stomach and breasts, as well as the scratchy-soft, almost ticklish texture of the mink and its heavy satin lining, the fabric made warm by her body. His skin twitched and shivered, soothed and driven mad by the liquid motion of skin and satin, and the rougher friction of fur against fur.</p><p>Kitty's hips twisted against his, her lips brushing his neck, teasing again, before she pulled back, looking for his gaze.</p><p>"Happy birthday," she said.</p><p>Kurt swallowed, his racing heart suddenly lurching. As quickly as it rushed in, the blood began to drain from his face. He struggled to meet her gaze, and became distracted by details, by the way the sparse eyeliner on Kitty's upper lids was smudged by the the length of the day into a tiny brown tear at the corner of her right eye, and the strand of hair stuck to her forehead and left eyebrow. Seeing those things, the perfection of her imperfection, he knew it wasn't right. It wasn't right because it was <em>too</em> right. Because it had happened before...</p><p>He squeezed his eyes shut and kissed her brown tear. Then he kissed the crest of her forehead, and the spot beneath her ear, rubbing his cheek against hers before burying his face in a sea of fur and hair, seizing the same in his suddenly desperate hands.</p><p>"Oh Katzchen..."</p><p>Sensing the change in him, Kitty pulled away again. Kurt released her easily, condemned by the growing sureness that he'd never really had her to begin with.</p><p>"Hey..." she said, brows puckered with concern. "Are you okay? You seem..."</p><p>"I'm... " Kurt bit his cheek with a fang, surrendering once more to a past he couldn't change. "I'm fine. Just a bit... distracted."</p><p>"I know," she sympathized, running a slow hand over his heart. "Don't worry about it. You want to just chill for a while? We can always pick this up later. After all—we have all night."</p><p>Kurt uttered the only response he could give. "Don't forget the next night..."</p><p>"...and the one after that," Kitty finished, grinning mischievously. She gave his bare chest a final, playful swirl before stepping out of his arms.</p><p>Kurt watched her slip like sand through his fingers, staring helplessly at his empty hands. Then he looked past himself to Kitty, watching her duck out of her heavy pelt and toss it on the bed. His eyes were like lenses, studying her through the strangely intimate distance of a home movie as she zipped herself into a hooded sweatshirt and pulled a pair of grey track pants over the chipped teal nail polish adorning her perfect, round toes.</p><p>She said, "I'll grab some wine from the kitchen, and we can watch a movie. You pick—as long as it's something from this century."</p><p>"Sure."</p><p>"'Kay. Back in a jiffy."</p><p>Her departure was almost a relief. As she phased through the door without so much as a backward glance, Kurt feel back into a protective numbness.</p><p>Mechanically, he returned to the window, and sat down, bringing his knees up to his chest, tail looping around his ankle. Lightning flashed against his closed eyelids as he leaned his face against the glass, hearing the pouring water, and wishing he could feel it.</p><p>At first, he thought the sound of a determined fist hammering on his door was simply more thunder. Reality dawned gradually, struggling through a heavy veil.</p><p>Kurt rubbed his face as he stood, and went to the door. Opening it revealed Logan, scowling and carrying a six pack of beer.</p><p>"'Bout time," he growled. "Were you asleep or something?"</p><p>"I... guess so," Kurt faltered.</p><p>"Anyway, you ready? Found a new spot, southeast corner of the island where the wind dulls the stench of metal, makes the place half-tolerable."</p><p>"Has it stopped raining?"</p><p>Logan raised an eyebrow. "Raining? It hasn't rained in days. How long have you been asleep?"</p><p>Kurt looked away, confused, and unnerved.</p><p>"Hey, elf..." Logan began, gravelly voice softened with concern. "I was just kidding about—are you okay?"</p><p>"I don't know..."</p><p>"Talk or don't. But both go great with beer."</p><p>Kurt managed a small, grateful smile as he eyed the beer in Logan's hand. "What did you—"</p><p>"German. The good stuff. Were you expecting Canadian?"</p><p>"Of course not."</p><p>"Good. Then let's go."</p><p>As he followed Logan through the door, Kurt reflected that he was glad it wasn't raining. If it was clear enough, and dark enough, maybe he'd be able to see the stars.</p><p>
  <strong>~End~ (for now...)</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for all the melancholy! But they'll get back together again, I promise :) Next one's also gonna be a bit sad, so I'll apologize for that in advance. It involves Kitty meeting Kurt Darkholme...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. At Cavern X</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This chapter is set after Second Coming (i.e. after Kurt's death) and in the immediate aftermath of Kitty meeting Kurt Darkholme (Nightcrawler from the Age of Apocalypse reality) in Uncanny X-Force #19. This chapter also assumes Kitty and Kurt had a romantic relationship, but that's not necessarily relevant—take it as you will!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>At Cavern X</strong>
</p><p>It had been like losing him all over again.</p><p>The moment he walked into the room, through the searing white light of a dimensional portal into the hangar at Cavern X, Kitty's brain lit up like fireworks. She didn't care if she was hallucinating or insane. Accounting for the impossible could wait, because there he was—Kurt Wagner. Her darling fuzzy elf, standing, walking, breathing—<em>alive</em>.</p><p>As she raced across the room to throw her arms around his neck, and felt, for two glorious seconds, the familiar contours of his body, her tears finally welled up, all the ones she'd been storing away over all the long, lonely months she'd been forcing herself not to feel. In that moment, she swore on everything she held dear that she'd never, ever, let Kurt go again.</p><p>It was in the very midst of that promise that he pushed her away—violently, and brutally, treating the depth of her love like an infecting plague. He wasn't Kurt. Or at least—he wasn't <em>her</em> Kurt.</p><p>Kitty staggered back, and then ran, straight into the closest private room she could find. It was the hangar's control room, a smallish, round space surrounded by screens and consoles. Once she was alone, she stood and trembled with the effort it took to stay solid, fighting a desperate impulse to vanish as she leaned low over the back of a metal chair, forehead brushing her fingertips. Different colored lights blinked rhythmically against her closed eyelids, accompanied by a gentle mechanical hum.</p><p>It wasn't the first time she'd met other Kurts. Encountering his counterpart from the alternate reality in which the Nazis had conquered Europe had been particularly unsettling. That Kurt had been less like a dark mirror than a distillation of evil, a man whose only amusement came from violence and hate. The Kurt she'd encountered in Limbo as a servant of Belasco also came to mind. Yet those encounters had been endurable because she'd had the real Kurt—her Kurt—by her side. It was easy to dismiss a copy when the original was on had to put things right.</p><p>Now, things had changed. The Bamfs that had taken over the Jean Grey School were bad enough, but this… This was different, not least of all because Kitty knew, not very deep down, that she wanted it to be.</p><p>She was wrenched back to the present by the hydraulic moan of the sliding door, signalling she was no longer alone.</p><p>"Fräulein."</p><p>Kitty couldn't control her visceral reaction to the sound of his voice—Kurt's voice. Unique, perfect, and tactile, she felt it vibrate through the air, prompting a shiver that began under her hair and proceeded through her chest to the tips of her toes and fingers. She hadn't expected to see Kurt's doppelganger again, now or maybe ever, any more than she'd expected to see him the first time. But now he was here, and she couldn't very well ignore him, just as she couldn't ignore the way his hot gaze on her back made her embarrassed about her previous behavior. She wasn't quite ready to contemplate why she was suddenly so concerned about the opinion of a stranger.</p><p>She swiped a quick hand over her eyes and pushed herself upright, squaring her shoulders as she turned to greet him. The sight of him was both better and worse. It was better because she was forced to confront the physical differences she'd missed the first time, like his deep red eyes and the brighter red tattoo adorning the left side of his face. It was worse because those differences were minor compared to the doppelganger's more-obvious similarities.</p><p>It had been nearly a year since Kurt had died, and longer than that since Kitty had been separated from him, both literally and practically, physically and emotionally. Yet in all that time, she'd never stopped being able to see Kurt in her mind's eye. She'd never lost the ability to conjure what she'd thought was a perfect vision of his face, eyes, or smile; a blink of her eyes or a beat of her heart was all it took to picture the beloved intricacies of his body, in either the bliss of sleep or the glory of movement. But now, watching the white-booted, two-toed feet of Kurt's latest doppelganger roll over the floor, his fork-tipped tail making a low, loose curve behind his knees, she was brought face-to-face with how much she'd actually forgotten, less in fact than in feel; it wasn't just the doppelganger's too-familiar voice that seemed to charge the air around her.</p><p>"Hi there," she said, managing a shaky, close-lipped smile.</p><p>The other Kurt met her conciliatory gesture with a thoroughly blank expression as he let the door slide shut behind him. His tone was equally blank as he told her, "You should consider yourself fortunate. Not many people walk away after touching me without permission."</p><p>Kitty clenched her jaw, debating how to read his deadpan face and voice, unable to distinguish between hyperbole and truth and wondering, vaguely, if such confusion was actually intentional.</p><p>"So I guess you're not here to apologize," she offered.</p><p>Watching her joke fall dramatically flat, Kitty cleared her throat, and started again. "Well anyway, <em>I'm</em> sorry. Obviously, you're not the man I thought you were."</p><p>"Obviously."</p><p>"So who <em>are</em> you?"</p><p>"My name is Kurt Darkholme."</p><p>"Darkholme...?" Kitty's eyes widened. "As in..."</p><p>"It's my family name."</p><p>"Right..." she said, taking a deep breath and releasing it. "Well, I'm Kitty—Kitty Pryde. It's, uh, short for Katherine."</p><p>"Wouldn't 'Kate' be more efficient?"</p><p>Kitty opted to change the subject. "So where do you come from?"</p><p>"You wouldn't know it."</p><p>"You'd be surprised. Is it anything like here?"</p><p>"That remains to be seen."</p><p>"That bad, huh?"</p><p>Darkholme didn't answer. He was moving as they talked, making his way deliberately along the curved border of the room, intently and indiscriminately examining both consoles and blank patches of wall. Watching him, Kitty couldn't be sure whether his actions were a strategy or a disguise, whether he was really studying the features and contours of the room or whether he merely wanted her to <em>think</em> he was. Why would he seek her out only to ignore her...?</p><p>Yet her distrust was at war with a sick fascination as she continued to compare differences and similarities. Darkholme shared Kurt's grace and athleticism, yet lacked his harmony. He had the same compact muscles but was <em>all</em> muscle, giving his spandex-clad frame a sharper, stiffer expression that emphasized the tiny hitches in his otherwise fluid movements. At first, Kitty thought it was an effect of caution or his uniform's armoured joints, but a better look at the lines around his eyes suggested otherwise, as did the fluorescent light glinting in the subtle streaks of grey in his blue-black hair, which was every bit as beautiful as Kurt's. Kurt had been 30 when he died, but Kitty felt sure Darkholme was older. Either that, or life had taken an undue toll.</p><p>"Are you an X-Man, in your world?" she asked.</p><p>"Ja."</p><p>"So you're a hero."</p><p>"I bring the guilty to justice."</p><p>Kitty snorted, having learned from the best to defend herself with humor. "Okay, Batman."</p><p>Darkholme stopped long enough to shoot her a quizzical look. "What?"</p><p>"Batman... You know... from comic books, movies, lunch boxes, t-shirts, Legos..."</p><p>"You admire this man?"</p><p>"No, I..." Kitty trailed off, unsettled by his stark incomprehension. "Never mind. It's not important."</p><p>Darkholme resumed his inspection, and Kitty returned to studying the corrugated metal floor. She wished she was in uniform, hating her Pumas and jeans, and pining for her tall leather combat boots and unstable molecule spandex—anything to level the playing field, which seemed skewed in Darkholme's favor.</p><p>After a moment, she asked, "Do you know me where you're from?"</p><p>"We've never met."</p><p>She nodded slowly, neither glad nor disappointed, still oblivious to his purpose.</p><p>"Though you clearly knew me," observed Darkholme.</p><p>"We were... friends. But you're—he's—dead."</p><p>"So I've heard. Which begs the question—do you usually expect dead friends to come waltzing through the door?"</p><p>"Not exactly," she admitted, crossing her arms over her chest. "But I never stop hoping. If your X-Men are anything like mine, maybe you understand that."</p><p>He glanced at her and cocked an eyebrow, widening one ruby red eye. "Don't you think you're a bit <em>old</em> to believe in miracles?"</p><p>Kitty nearly shivered again at the coldness of his tone, which was too angry to be bitter and too despondent to be angry. She shifted her weight and tightened her arms around her body, beginning to regret her earlier flippancy.</p><p>Suddenly, Darkholme halted, giving her what seemed like his full attention for the first time. "May I ask <em>you</em> a question?"</p><p>Reluctantly, Kitty raised her head and her eyes. "Sure."</p><p>"What was he like, this friend of yours? My counterpart in this world?"</p><p>Kitty paused long enough to take a long, careful breath. "He was the kind of guy people miss," she said at last.</p><p>"People like you."</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"How did he die?"</p><p>"He... It was a teleporting accident."</p><p>"Hm. How ironic," Darkholme said flatly, attention wandering away to a blinking screen.</p><p>"I guess," she intoned, dropping her eyes.</p><p>"Was he married?"</p><p>Kitty hesitated, taken aback by his sudden turn. She looked up enough to observe Darkholme maintain a disinterested air that may or may not have been studied.</p><p>"No," she replied. "He was never married."</p><p>"What do you miss about him?"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Darkholme's gaze rolled over her as he began walking again, in her direction this time, advancing at a deliberately careless angle. "Every loss is different," he said. "In my life, I've lost many people. Some of them fade, faces disappearing from the mind's eye so quickly, reality becomes tangled with dream. Men and women I lived and fought with, sharing beds and food as the world crumbled around us… Some of them are gone as surely from my memory as from the earthly plain itself. Yet there are others that linger. Sometimes a nameless child will haunt the darkness, known only for a moment in life as a crying face bordered by flames. But most persistent are the voices, the ones that don't wait for night but will settle for a shadow in the day, whispering, just out of reach, loud enough to hear, but too quiet to understand."</p><p>He reached her side but stepped past her, curling around her body. Kitty remained perfectly still, wary of his closeness and distrustful of her own ability to move or speak.</p><p>"Tell me..." Darkholme asked, familiar voice rumbling behind her ear. "Do I sound like your friend?"</p><p>He drew closer, close enough that Kitty could feel the heat from his body, and imagine the rise and fall of his chest, inches or less from her back. His breath, too, was warm behind her ear; it was the same spot Kurt liked to kiss, lips and fur tickling her neck under her hair.</p><p>"And is it just a voice that you miss…?"</p><p>His low voice was almost a whisper, trembling against her cheek as he laid his two-fingered hand on her shoulder. Kitty inhaled sharply, a jolt racing up her too-solid spine. She sunk her fingernails into her arm and the palm of her hand as his fingers—Kurt's fingers—squeezed her bones and flesh.</p><p>"Maybe…" he continued. "You also miss a touch. A heartbeat, beating against yours through the night. Maybe what you really miss is what no other body can give you…"</p><p>The moment the tip of his tail brushed her calf, Kitty whirled toward him. Darkholme caught her punch easily, several inches from his face.</p><p>Kitty stared at her fist inside Darkholme's. "You expected me to do that. Didn't you?"</p><p>Darkholme uttered a tiny, dry chuckle. "I gave it a 50/50 chance."</p><p>Moving from anger to disgust, Kitty phased. Darkholme's unsuspecting fist dropped clumsily though her body as she stepped through him, in the direction of the door.</p><p>"You're not the only one who doesn't like being touched without permission," she said.</p><p>"Fair enough," Darkholme conceded, following her with his gaze. "But thank you, anyway."</p><p>"For what?"</p><p>"For the information."</p><p>Kitty's fist clenched tighter for the steadying pain.</p><p>"How long do you plan on staying here?" she asked crisply.</p><p>"Until my work is done."</p><p>"What 'work?'"</p><p>"There are people from my world in yours. People who need to be brought to—"</p><p>"Justice. Right, I get it. What kind of justice?"</p><p>"The same kind your friend Wolverine extols."</p><p>Kitty had no answer to that, and hated herself for it.</p><p>"And in the meantime, you're working with X-Force?"</p><p>"So it would seem."</p><p>"And when you're done, you go back, is that it?"</p><p>"That depends."</p><p>"On what?"</p><p>"On whether I'm still alive."</p><p>Kitty felt a trickle of blood between her knuckles as she loosened her fist and forced herself to look at him. Darkholme stared back impassively—not curious or even defiant. In place of the bright spark of Kurt's golden eyes, there was only a flat redness, depthless not because it penetrated, but because it refused entry; Darkholme's eyes didn't reach out so much as keep out.</p><p>Kitty took another moment to study his face. No fur grew within the broad, red lightning bolt running down the left side of his face, and its color worked its way into all the tiny creases around his eye; naked, vibrant, and total, it reminded her more of a burn or stain than a tattoo. Then there was his face itself, flesh pulled too tight in all the places not softened by grooves of age. It was nearly impossible to imagine Darkholme's thin, firm lips forming anything but a perverse imitation of Kurt's signature grin.</p><p>Yet even as she tallied the important differences between her dead friend and lover and his living imposter, Kitty's heartsick anger wavered. The longer she studied the dark, shadowed lines around Darkholme's eyes and lips, the more she realized it wasn't just age written into his too-familiar indigo skin and fur—it was also experience. The slope of his eyebrows, the shape of his cheekbones, the line of his nose and the firm angle of his jaw were more than distant echoes of the man she loved; they were the same, though distorted, like seeing through gauze or water. All at once, the revelation struck her: Kurt and Darkholme were molded differently from the same clay.</p><p>Kitty bit her lip, blinked, and swallowed. Then she looked at Darkholme, fighting to catch a glimmer of gold in his red gaze. "What... <em>happened</em> to you?"</p><p>Darkholme's ruby eyes flickered. Then his thin lips tightened into a ghastly, mocking smile. "Life."</p><p>Kitty recoiled, turning back toward the door as her heart plunged. She was sick and furious with herself for thinking, even for a moment, that cheekbones might mean anything more than what they were—bones, the mere frame for a soul that existed somewhere else, impossibly out of reach.</p><p>The door slid open, the brighter light at her back pouring into the long, dim corridor. Kitty paused, confronting her own elongated shadow, crawling into the dark. Without looking back, she said, "I hope you find what you're looking for."</p><p>Darkholme made a small sound, like an imitation of amusement. Yet when he spoke, the transformation of his voice into something soft and genuine reminded her more of Kurt than almost anything else. "I doubt that."</p><p>Her throat felt jagged as she forced down another swallow, and completed her exit.</p><p>Rounding the first sharp corner toward the hangar, Kitty had to stop on a dime to avoid colliding with Logan. He was heading in the opposite direction, probably to find her.</p><p>The moment she confronted Logan's eyes, blanker than Darkholme's beneath his black-and-white mask, her sea of emotions hardened into fury at the man responsible for Darkholme's presence, and so much else besides.</p><p>"You <em>bastard</em>," she hissed. "What the <em>hell</em> did you think you were doing?!"</p><p>Logan's lips were a hard line. "You're gonna have to be more specific."</p><p>"Why did you bring him here?"</p><p>"It was his call."</p><p>"No, it was <em>your</em> call. It's <em>always</em> your call."</p><p>"That's not—"</p><p>"Kurt's been dead nearly a <em>year</em> and you still think you own him. You think you have some kind of transcendent man-connection or whatever, bigger than me because I'm a girl, or because I'm 'too young,' or because I showed up two years too late or... or whatever it is. But I was <em>there</em> for him, Logan, every time you weren't. Which was many, many times."</p><p>"I never said otherwise."</p><p>Kitty shook her head, vision clouding with tears she refused to shed as she pivoted toward the wall. From the corner of her eye, she could see Logan look left, and then down.</p><p>"I need him," he said simply.</p><p>Kitty shot his inscrutable visage a final, bitter look. "And you think I <em>don't</em>? Just… fuck you… fuck…"</p><p>She gagged on her breaking voice, and closed her eyes, holding her forehead and the cold rock wall, dizzy with the uselessness of her anger. It wasn't Logan's fault. Or maybe it was, but it didn't matter, because too many of the things that were wrong were beyond the scope of human influence. If the entire world was cruel and irrational, then nothing was anybody's fault—not really. Things just <em>were</em> and she hated it, like she hated the walls closing in on her, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into the air, dropping quickly, silently, through the metal floor and into the solid rock beyond, sinking deeper and deeper until she ran out of air, and had to decide whether to return or continue, and meet her destiny at the center of the world.</p><p>Within three deep breaths, she'd recovered herself. She released the wall and straightened, though she kept her eyes carefully averted from Logan's when she said, "I'll see you back at the school."</p><p>"Sure."</p><p>Logan had the good sense not to touch her as she passed.</p><p>
  <strong>~END~ (for now...)</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you enjoyed my first and only attempt at writing Kurt Darkholme! I enjoyed his story arc for what it was, but also found it very cathartic to have Kitty yell at Logan for basically replacing regular Kurt with murder-y Kurt—hope you agree ;) Next: a bit less heartache! I've got something new in the works set in the aftermath of "House of M." Stay tuned!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. After M-Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Just to be confusing, this long-overdue continuation of this series doesn't fit into the continuity of some of the other chapters. In this chapter, Kitty and Kurt have never had a romantic relationship. This chapter is set in the aftermath of the "House of M" event. Basically: Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, has a mental breakdown, and radically reshapes the world. Some superheroes get to be happy, but others are not themselves whatsoever. Kurt's in the SHIELD Red Guard special ops team along with Logan, Rogue, Toad, and Spider-Woman, working under Mystique (who's sleeping with Logan); he's basically evil. Kitty's a schoolteacher; not evil, but not a superhero. Layla Miller fixes the illusion, there's a big battle, and Wanda reshapes the world again, so there's only 198 mutants left; everyone else loses their powers (some even die as a result). This story takes place a week after that.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>After M-Day</strong>
</p><p>Somehow, Kurt was alone. He was sitting on a bar stool in the expansive main kitchen at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters with his hand around an acceptable if pedestrian bottle of Diebels, and there wasn't a single solitary soul within sight or hearing range. Outside of brief bouts of sleep, it was the first time in the past seven days he'd actually been alone.</p><p>For much of the truly awful week that was, which had seen the mutant population reduced, in a single fell swoop, from tens of thousands to a mere 198, being alone was all he'd wanted—all he could think about when he wasn't thinking about how it felt like the end of the world. He'd desperately wanted to be free of the near-constant accusatory and envious looks of students, teammates, and friends, questioning why he'd kept his powers, and they hadn't. Some of them were bold enough to ask outright why he'd been spared. All he could do was express sympathy, and tell them the truth. He didn't know why he was still blue and able to teleport, why he still had his tail, golden eyes, and pointed ears, when so many others could barely recognize themselves in the mirror. But he'd do everything in his power to find out, and put things right. There must be a way to put things right.</p><p>Now that he was finally alone, he didn't feel better—he just felt alone. He was gradually starting to realize that what he'd thought was claustrophobia had, in fact, been that all along—loneliness. As one of only 198 mutants left on planet Earth, he was more alone that he'd ever been.</p><p>He blinked at the beer warming in his hand. He supposed he should drink it, but couldn't see the point. There wasn't enough alcohol in the world to make him forget the awful fact that after a lifetime spent fighting for some place to belong, he might be the furthest he'd ever been from that goal. And he didn't understand why. Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, had said three words—"no more mutants"—and everything had changed, dramatically, and awfully. Wanda, his wife in another world, much like their own…</p><p>As it often did, his mind drifted toward the benefits of female companionship; he'd always preferred being alone with someone special to be being truly alone. At the moment, it wasn't so much sex he craved, though that was always welcome. As he trailed his fingers up and down the neck of his beer, he found himself more invested in the simpler thought of how nice it would feel to touch, and be touched, to have a beautiful woman's body reclined, or curled, or stretched against his own, her lovely hands stroking his chest, or shoulders, or neck as she whispered sweet nothings into his ear, or simply tickled him with her soft lips, her breath warm in his fur. In the past four months, he'd let both Ororo and Christine Palmer slip through his fingers, for reasons that seemed clear at the time, and incomprehensible in the present. He should have slept with Christine. It would have been a one-night stand, but he'd at least have the memory of her in his bed, his arms and tail threaded through all her wonderful curves. Kurt closed his hand around his beer and finally took a long, deep swallow.</p><p>"Having a night cap?"</p><p>The question came from the doorway at his back. Kurt didn't need to turn around to know who it was; the voice was nearly as familiar as his own. But he turned anyway, and smiled—tiredly, but genuinely. No matter the day, time, dimension, or crisis, she had that affect on him.</p><p>"Hello, Katzchen."</p><p>"Hey."</p><p>Each step seemed heavy as Kitty closed the distance between them, and finally hauled her weary bones up onto the bar stool next to his. She was wearing yoga pants and a wrinkled Cat's Laughing t-shirt he was quite sure she'd been wearing at breakfast two days before, and perhaps the day after that. He wasn't much better, wearing black sweatpants and a white t-shirt he'd grabbed out of his dirty clothes hamper. Laundry hadn't been a priority that week, for anyone. And while he'd showered, he hadn't shaved. He didn't need to shave as often as most men, but after a week of neglect, his dark stubble was visible, and scratchy when he ran a weary hand over his face.</p><p>"You look awful," Kitty observed.</p><p>"And you look lovely."</p><p>Kitty slouched forward on the counter, not realizing he'd meant what he said. Whether she was wearing a wrinkled t-shirt or a cocktail dress, with her curly auburn hair in tangles or carefully straightened, to Kurt's eyes, Kitty always looked lovely.</p><p>Kurt waited for her to initiate the conversation. When she didn't, he asked, gently, "Are you okay?"</p><p>"Not really," she replied. "You?"</p><p>"Same."</p><p>"This has been… one of the worst…" she trailed off despondently, as though she lacked the energy to finish her thought.</p><p>Kurt made an effort to pick up the slack. "I keep thinking of things to compare it to, but…"</p><p>"Yeah…"</p><p>"Is there anything I can do?" He considered laying a hand on her shoulder, but something about her expression gave him pause.</p><p>"Can you give a million mutants back their powers?"</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Then no—there's nothing you can do."</p><p>Kurt frowned, wondering at her tone. He was accustomed to Kitty's temper. But she wasn't usually bitter.</p><p>Taking a chance, he asked, "Perhaps you'd feel better if you told me what's really bothering you."</p><p>"I'd think that would be obvious," Kitty deadpanned.</p><p>"We still have our powers," he said, choosing his words carefully. "But other things happened, in the world Wanda made…"</p><p>Staring blindly at her hands, Kitty mumbled, "At least <em>your</em> life was exciting…"</p><p>Kurt cocked an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"</p><p>"I was a <em>schoolteacher</em>, Kurt."</p><p>"And I was working for Mystique's <em>hit squad</em>," he reminded her, "hunting down other heroes. Including Logan. Including you."</p><p>"You mean your <em>mother's</em> hit squad."</p><p>"Yes," Kurt intoned, jaw flexing. "My mother's hit squad."</p><p>Kitty still wasn't looking at him, which was starting to feel intentional. Kurt ducked his head to catch her eyes, and asked, "Are you upset with me about something?"</p><p>"What gave you that idea?" Kitty inquired, finally sparing him a glance.</p><p>"The fact you're acting like you're upset with me about something."</p><p>Kitty straightened enough to regard him properly. "You've been telling students we'll fix it—that we'll find a way to get their powers back.</p><p>"And?"</p><p>"I really have to spell it out?"</p><p>"It seems so."</p><p>"We don't know if we <em>can</em> get their powers back, Kurt. And we can't go around promising them that we will."</p><p>Kurt uncoiled his tail from the leg of his stool, and shifted back in his seat. That wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. "I've never known you to give up on things."</p><p>"I'm not giving up," Kitty insisted. "I'm being <em>realistic</em>. And <em>responsible</em>. You have no idea what it's like to wake up one day and feel responsible for kids barely younger than yourself."</p><p>Kurt's eyes widened, but his tone was steady as he said, "Are you sure about that?"</p><p>"That wasn't… I mean…" Kitty chewed her lower lip as she trailed off, looking suddenly younger than her twenty-two years—the same age he'd been when he'd woken from a coma, and found himself the last surviving member of a not-yet fifteen-year-old Kitty's adopted family.</p><p>He watched Kitty scrunch her eyes shut, take a deep breath, and release a weary sigh. "Fuck, Kurt—I'm sorry. It's just…"</p><p>"It's been a long week," he offered. "I understand."</p><p>When she opened her eyes into his, her expression had mellowed. "Yeah," she agreed quietly. "It has."</p><p>Kurt managed a hint of a sympathetic smile. He wasn't quite ready to call it even, but he did understand, only too well. And he didn't want to fight. He rarely wanted to fight with anyone, and less so with Kitty, especially now; minutes before, the mere sound of her voice had made him the happiest he'd been in days.</p><p>With sudden energy, Kitty asked, "Do you want to get out of here?"</p><p>"And go where?" Kurt wondered.</p><p>"I could really use a drink."</p><p>Kurt hesitated, still not fully used to the idea of Kitty's adulthood. He'd consumed alcohol with her before, but as a rule, he tried not to facilitate it. He'd never considered himself Kitty's guardian, even when she'd been fourteen and had probably needed one. But he had felt pressure to set a good example, and old habits died hard.</p><p>"Okay," he agreed cautiously. "Although—I don't want to use my inducer."</p><p>"Harry's, then."</p><p>"Closed for renovations."</p><p>"That other place in Salem Center—with the jukebox and the records on the walls."</p><p>"It hasn't been open for years. Now since you were in college."</p><p>"This week just keeps getting better…"</p><p>"I know a place," he said. "But we'll have to bring our own alcohol. Thankfully, I know somewhere to get that, too."</p><p>"My hero," Kitty ironized, half her mouth attempting a smile.</p><p>Kurt returned the gesture, more genuinely this time, as he slung his newly energized legs off his stool. "One teleport for the beverages, and a second for the perfect place to drink them."</p><p>"I'm all yours," Kitty sighed, sliding off her own stool and placing her hand in his.</p><p>Kurt smiled again, but inwardly, as he wrapped his fingers around hers. He'd always liked the feel of her hand in his, especially when they were going on an adventure, no matter how small. He squeezed her familiar fingers as he pictured the place they were headed, and took them there.</p><p>They BAMF'ed into a supply room that was dark for Kitty, but not for him. He released her hand to make a b-line for a particular brown crate, lifted the lid, and withdrew a bottle of Masterson's 10 year aged rye tucked away between the more copious bottles of Canadian Club. Whiskey—especially Canadian whiskey—wasn't his usual pleasure, but its potency and availability suited his purposes.</p><p>When he turned back to Kitty, she was squinting into the darkness, and feeling her way around the maze of boxes and crates.</p><p>"Where are we?" she wondered.</p><p>"A supply room," he replied.</p><p>"Which supply room? I've never been in here before."</p><p>"<em>Logan's</em> supply room."</p><p>"He has his own—"</p><p>"Not officially, no."</p><p>"What else is in here?" she asked, right hand creeping dangerously close to a rack of samurai swords, only some of which were in scabbards, and at least one of which definitely wasn't clean. "These look like—"</p><p>Kurt collected her roving hand, and said, "Fewer questions is better, I think. Now—hold on tight."</p><p>Kitty dutifully slipped her arm around his waist as he teleported them again, to the roof of the school. On its own, the roof wasn't particularly special. But the spot he'd chosen was better than most. It was one of the gently sloping south-east turrets, facing the geodesic greenhouse. At night, the greenhouse looked like its own pocket universe, a warmly glowing tropical paradise silhouetted against the dark of the sky and the faint stars beyond. Kitty lingered for a moment with her weight on his hip, admiring the view. Idly, Kurt reflected that he liked the way she felt there, warm, and hard, and just the right amount of soft.</p><p>"Not bad," she remarked, finally stepping out of his arms. "You come here often?"</p><p>"When I have time," he replied, then realized, "We should have brought glasses."</p><p>"My spit's not poison—is yours?"</p><p>"Not that I'm aware," he replied, enjoying her usual way with words. "Shall we?"</p><p>Kitty followed him toward the rounded wall of the turret. The September night wasn't cold, but they sat close anyway, backs against the wall with the sleeve of Kitty's t-shirt brushing his. Kitty stretched out, but he kept his knees bent, tail looping over his thigh to make two loose coils around his sweat pant-clad leg. He didn't have to tell his tail to do such things; it simply did them, knowing, instinctively, how to be where he needed it. He couldn't imagine it not being there, ready to balance his movements and apply gentle pressure to his leg when he wanted to feel the comfort of its presence. Yet that night, and for the past six days, many other mutants were learning exactly what it felt like to live without parts of themselves. Kurt screwed open the whiskey, and offered Kitty the first sip.</p><p>She accepted the bottle, then passed her nose experimentally across the spout. Kurt watched with interest as she made a face, and then dove in, knocking back an impressive shot. She stifled a cough as she handed the bottle back, defiantly refusing to wipe her watering eyes. Kurt managed not to grin before taking his own, more measured sip. It wasn't half bad—smoky with a hint of something sweet.</p><p>After they'd each had a second helping, Kitty said, "Thanks—I really needed that."</p><p>"Welcome to the wonders of adulthood," he quipped, balancing the bottle on the shingles between them.</p><p>"It's not like I've never <em>drank</em> before."</p><p>"You could have fooled me," he teased, earning him an elbow to his ribs, which succeeded in igniting his grin. Kitty assaulted him when she was happy, never when she was angry.</p><p>As much as he hated to spoil their much-improved mood, Kurt felt their interaction in the kitchen hanging over him, unresolved. "I'm sorry if I've been giving the students false hope. But I believe what I've been saying. We <em>will</em> figure this out."</p><p>"I wish I had your faith," said Kitty.</p><p>"Faith is easy to have. It only requires believing."</p><p>"You really think that?"</p><p>"I <em>believe</em> it."</p><p>Kitty shook her head slowly, and reached for the bottle. "To each his own."</p><p>"Speaking of…" he began, watching her swallow and wipe her hand across her mouth. "Are you truly upset about being a schoolteacher, in the House of M world?"</p><p>"Ug," Kitty groaned. "Is that really what we're calling it now?"</p><p>"I believe that's the preferred nomenclature."</p><p>"I don't know… Yeah, a bit."</p><p>"But—"</p><p>"You really think that's where I belong?" When she met his gaze, much of her face was cloaked in shadow, but her hazel eyes were bright.</p><p>"Unless I'm much mistaken," he replied, "you're <em>currently</em> a schoolteacher."</p><p>"Not in some… <em>regular</em> school..."</p><p>He didn't want to tease her, but the dramatic quality of her offense made doing so irresistible. "Someone's feeling very homo superior, aren't they?"</p><p>"I know, I know…" Kitty grumbled, handing him the bottle. "Laugh is up. But you have to admit, everyone else seemed a lot more… <em>important</em> in that world than I was."</p><p>"I would have gladly swapped places," he opined, taking another slow sip of whiskey.</p><p>"I'm sorry about—"</p><p>"I know," he said quickly, rye burning down his throat. "I'm sorry, too, for anything I did while I was—"</p><p>"It wasn't your fault," she assured him. "You weren't yourself. None of us were."</p><p>"Still."</p><p>Kitty shrugged against his shoulder, "Your outfits were cute, at least."</p><p>"Even when I was shooting at you?"</p><p>Flashing a tentative smile, she said, "Good thing I've always been good at avoiding bullets."</p><p>"I am extremely thankful for that," he said genuinely, not quite able to share her smile. It would be some time before he'd be able to joke about taking orders from his mother, and how eager he'd been to do so.</p><p>In the silence that followed, Kitty took another generous drag off the bottle, then replaced it on the shingles between them. When she readjusted her weight, she shuffled closer, until her shoulder dropped against his. Kurt tensed instinctively, surprised by the gesture. It wasn't unusual, but had been more common in years past, when she'd been younger, and he'd been safely older. Yet when she rubbed her smooth skin against his fur, he began to relax into her familiar warmth. She must have needed the comfort as much as he did, and there was no harm in that. It also felt good, and Kurt badly needed to feel good.</p><p>Kitty broke the silence to ask, "Do you remember… how it felt?"</p><p>She wasn't talking about how it used to feel lounging together on the couch at Muir Island, close, comfortable, and careless beyond those facts. She was talking about the House of M, and the lives they'd lived there. When they'd been in that world, those lives had seemed real; they'd had pasts, and relationships, and hopes for the future. Now, the memories were difficult to grasp, like incomplete pieces of childhood.</p><p>"A little," he replied. "Do you?"</p><p>"A little," she agreed. "I think I was… happy."</p><p>Kurt contemplated the yellow light of the greenhouse. "I mostly recall being angry. Angry and…" At least a few images remained clear in his mind. In one, he was looking at himself in a mirror, smoothing his hair away from his face, admiring the shiny gold buttons of his S.H.I.E.L.D. Red Guard uniform, eager to hunt his mother's boyfriend. Eager to hunt Logan. He was smiling, but it wasn't his regular smile; he was using too many teeth, and making a point of showing his fangs.</p><p>"What?" Kitty prompted.</p><p>"I really enjoyed shooting Logan," he finished, trying to keep his tone light, and not really succeeding.</p><p>"I'm sure he won't take it personally," Kitty offered.</p><p>"Ja," he agreed, "but I do."</p><p>Kitty placed a hand on his knee, her touch steady and calm, like it was something she did all the time. Which of course it was. Yet Kurt found himself studying her fingers, wondering if they'd stay there, or slide further down his leg.</p><p>"Are you going to talk to him about… you know…"</p><p>"What is there to say?"</p><p>"She's your <em>mom</em>."</p><p>"So you keep telling me." He couldn't help the note of irritation in his voice. He was ready to forget what happened in the House of M world, and couldn't understand why Kitty was so insistent on revisiting it.</p><p>"It's weird you never talk about it," she said.</p><p>"About—what?"</p><p>"Mystique."</p><p>"Why would I talk about it?"</p><p>Kitty slipped her hand off his knee, and pulled her own knees toward her body. "I dunno… If my mom was a supervillain we fought on a regular basis, I'd probably want to talk about it."</p><p>"And what would you say?"</p><p>"I'd say… it sucks that my mom's a supervillain."</p><p>Kurt eyed her. "That's it?"</p><p>"And—I'm hurt she abandoned me. And angry that she doesn't give a crap about me. Because I'm pretty freakin' great, and I deserve a better mom."</p><p>He smiled, and very nearly laughed, suddenly and thoroughly disarmed by her simple, genuine sentiment. "Feel free to tell her that, the next time we see her."</p><p>"Think she'd care?"</p><p>"No," he replied, shifting to press more of his arm along the smooth length of hers. "But I'd appreciate it, anyway."</p><p>"Deal."</p><p>When he looked at her, she was handing him the bottle. He dutifully accepted it, drank, and handed it back. Kitty drank too, then moved the bottle to the other side of her body, letting her knee knock against his.</p><p>"So you haven't talked to Logan?" she asked.</p><p>If he'd had pupils, he would have rolled his eyes. "He's had a lot on his mind…"</p><p>"Like the fact that in Wanda's mutant utopia, he was sleeping with his best friend's evil mother?"</p><p>"It may not be the first time…"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"I said—"</p><p>"No, I heard you. I just don't understand. How do you—"</p><p>"I don't know for sure. She could have been lying, trying to get under my skin."</p><p>"You didn't ask Logan?"</p><p>Kurt let his silence answer for him, hoping she'd drop the subject if he stopped engaging with it. It was a vain hope; as he'd told her in the kitchen, he'd never known her to give up on things once she became determined to solve them.</p><p>"Do you ever think Logan might…"</p><p>Kurt searched for her eyes, but couldn't seem to find them. "That Logan might… what?"</p><p>"I don't want to get between you."</p><p>"You won't."</p><p>"I just wondered if you ever thought Logan might... you know… That he might, kinda…"</p><p>He continued to study her cheek as she continued to study the vaunted dome above the school's main entrance. "Does it matter?"</p><p>"I guess not. Except… he was sleeping with your mom."</p><p>Kurt gave up and cast his gaze skyward, releasing a weary sigh. "Honestly, I would have talked to him. But he's been avoiding me, and after the week we've had, I didn't feel up to pressing the issue."</p><p>"He probably feels bad about…"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"But I guess you shot him, so…"</p><p>"We also stole his whiskey," he observed, nodding toward the bottle.</p><p>"Hey," she protested. "You did the stealing."</p><p>"At the very least, you're a willing accomplice."</p><p>Kitty scoffed, and jostled his shoulder. Kurt smiled in turn, calmly, and warmly, surprised to realize he did feel better. There were some scenes from the House of M world he didn't mind remembering, such as the planning session in the helicarrier commissary, after Layla Miller had helped them remember who they truly were—who they were <em>supposed</em> to be. He'd been sitting between Kitty and Logan as Jessica Drew—Spider-Woman—suggested they leave the world as it was, wondering how they could be sure their old world was the right one. The question had appalled him; a world in which he was separated from some friends and the enemy of others was so obviously wrong. He wasn't sure if he'd ever been prouder of Logan than when he'd calmly told Jessica what a fool she was, and stopped the debate in its tracks. He would talk to Logan eventually, probably over another bottle of whiskey. But what Kitty didn't understand is that Logan had already made amends, in his usual way—by confronting the source of the problem, and deploying all his considerable skills to put it out of its misery.</p><p>With new conviction, he said, "We weren't ourselves there. None of us were."</p><p>"But why were some of us happy?" Kitty wondered. "Why was <em>I</em> happy?"</p><p>"I don't know," he said, slowly shaking his head. "Maybe it was just Wanda, messing with our minds."</p><p>"Wanda… your alternate universe wife…" Kitty finally met his gaze, mischief playing in her darkly glittering eyes.</p><p>"Oh dear… We're not going to go down <em>that</em> road, are we?"</p><p>"I'm just saying—in TJ's world, Wanda didn't go crazy and wreck everything. Maybe if you'd called her last year, like you said you were going to…"</p><p>"I was <em>joking</em>, and you have <em>impressive</em> belief in my powers of seduction."</p><p>"I've seen your charm in action—it ain't nothing."</p><p>"Is that right?"</p><p>"Thankfully, I'm immune."</p><p>"And the antidote was…?"</p><p>"Repeated exposure."</p><p>For the first time in a week, he laughed. It was brief, but genuine, and in the wake of it, something in his neck felt looser. "Danke—I needed that."</p><p>As he rolled his shoulders to better appreciate the knot that had eased in his neck, Kitty moved to accommodate him. They separated, then seemed to grow almost magically closer, until most of Kitty's weight was reclining against his body, and much of his own body was pouring into her shape. His tail uncoiled from his leg to let Kitty's thigh loll against his own. It felt lost for a moment, then drawn, like the rest of him, toward Kitty's warmth. He wanted to thread it around her ankle, but knew he probably shouldn't.</p><p>"You can, if you… I don't mind."</p><p>His eyes flickered in hers, wondering how she could have read his thoughts so exactly, unless she'd been thinking the same thing. Wordlessly, he proceeded to curl his tail around her ankle, making a single loop before resting the spade tip against her running shoe. In response, Kitty exhaled a sigh. It was a small thing, silent, and short. He probably wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't also chosen that moment to place her cheek on his shoulder, her breath warm on his fur. She seemed precarious, so Kurt raised his left arm, and slipped it behind her neck, his fingers curling over her shoulder.</p><p>"What would have happened if… would you just lose your teleporting, or…?"</p><p>"I really don't know," Kurt replied truthfully. No one had ever properly decided which of his features and abilities were due to his X-gene, and which may be due to something else, an unsteady alchemy of science and magic that he tried not to dwell on.</p><p>"It feels so selfish to say this," said Kitty, "but all week I've been thinking… even though I feel sick about the students, and Bobby, and so many other people losing their powers… sometimes, I get this little flash of relief, thinking—at least it wasn't Kurt."</p><p>Kurt swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "It's not selfish. I've… felt the same way."</p><p>"It makes sense that you'd—"</p><p>"About you, I mean."</p><p>Kitty was quiet for a moment, her breath deep and slow against his neck. Her left hand was on his midsection, exploring the friction of his fur against his shirt. Kurt wondered if she knew how nice that felt, her fingers playing with his fur. He'd never told her that, but surely she knew, from her own experience, her someone else's. He'd kissed plenty of women in front of Kitty, and she was nothing if not observant. She must have seen how much he liked it when a kiss began with a stroke of his cheek or chest, or included a massage of his neck.</p><p>"I'd be losing a lot less than you would," she said at last.</p><p>"It's not a competition. Your powers, your abilities—they're part of you."</p><p>"You know what I feel the worst about?"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"How relieved I am that it didn't happen to me."</p><p>"It's normal to feel that way," he assured her. He was sure of that, since he'd been feeling the same way. He was barely able to navigate their new reality with body and powers intact; it would be infinitely worse with some of him missing.</p><p>"People think my power is just phasing," she said. "Just passing through walls, and walking on air. But it's more than that. When I know my powers are working, when I know I can count on them, I feel… whole. Connected. Sure I can handle whatever life throws at me. When they're dampened, or they're not working right, I feel…"</p><p>"Lost," he supplied.</p><p>"Yeah, and sort of—"</p><p>"Like there's a piece of you missing. Which you keep trying to touch, but every time you try, it's just out of reach. And the harder you try… it doesn't get better. It only gets worse."</p><p>Kitty's hand stilled, and became heavy on his body. "You made it seem like it didn't bother you—back when you couldn't teleport."</p><p>"There was no point in dwelling on it," he replied. "I was lucky to be alive."</p><p>"You still had a right to complain, from time to time. God knows I did."</p><p>"That's not the way I do things."</p><p>"Maybe you should, sometimes."</p><p>"Are you really telling me I should complain more?" he wondered.</p><p>"Not complain, just… talk about stuff."</p><p>"Such as?"</p><p>"Like the stuff with Mystique, and when Logan does something shitty, and how you felt, waking up from a coma, not able to teleport and barely able to stand, suddenly responsible for a fourteen-year-old know-it-all."</p><p>Barely able to stand was putting it charitably. Those first weeks back in the land of the living, his body had been a stranger, his feet and even his tail refusing to obey the simplest mental commands. "I never felt I was… <em>responsible</em> for you."</p><p>"Well that's flattering…" Kitty mumbled.</p><p>"I didn't mean… I only meant that I never felt I needed to take <em>care</em> of you. You never needed rules, or bedtimes, or help with your homework. Not like you were a… a…"</p><p>"…a child?"</p><p>Even the sound of the word made him want to squirm under her weight. "And surely you never thought of me as—"</p><p>"Yeah, no. Not even a little. You don't have any of the characteristics of an authority figure."</p><p>"Well that's flattering…" he echoed.</p><p>Kitty amended, "I <em>respect</em> you—you know that. But you were way too fun to be a parent."</p><p>Kurt blinked into the night, wondering if he'd been the role model he could have been. "Maybe I should have been more—"</p><p>"<em>Kurt</em>. You did great. I'm here, and I turned out fine." She pulled back to look at him, smiling softly as she pressed her hand to his chest.</p><p>"Ja," he agreed. "Despite my best efforts to corrupt you into a life of piracy."</p><p>Kitty expelled a noisy snort of laughter, and snuggled back into his shoulder, fingers resuming their rhythm in the space beneath his ribs.</p><p>Her voice was quieter when she said, "I've been telling the students they may have to live with it. Maybe… maybe I shouldn't be telling them that."</p><p>"It's not untrue," he observed.</p><p>"But maybe this is one of those times where the truth isn't particularly helpful."</p><p>While Kurt was considering his response, Kitty continued, "I just want them to stop looking at me like I can fix it. Like I have the secret to fixing it, and I'm keeping it from them. Or like I'm punishing them. A disturbing number of students seem to think they're being punished."</p><p>Kurt decided it was one of those times when the truth might be helpful. "On Tuesday," he began, "a student, Nicholas… Garcia, I think, he's new… stopped me in the hall, and asked to speak with me in private. I took him to the library, and there, sitting between busts of Darwin and the Professor, he asked me if God had taken his powers because he'd sinned, in some terrible way he couldn't possibly fathom. At first, I thought he was asking because of my former life as a priest, illusory though it was. But then he told me the real reason he'd sought me out—because he'd heard I was the son of a demon, and believed I might have some insight into whether he was going to hell."</p><p>All of Kitty's body seemed to grow very still against his. "Oh God, that is… I am so sorry. I can talk to him—the stuff with Azazel isn't supposed to be common knowledge."</p><p>"It doesn't matter," he assured her. "That wasn't the part that upset me."</p><p>"No," she agreed. "I suppose not. What did you tell him?"</p><p>"That he wasn't going to hell. And that we'd help him. That we'd do everything in our power to help him."</p><p>Kitty slid her hand up his body, thumb stroking his heart. "It's not your fault."</p><p>"Then it's not yours, either," he said, his own thumb massaging circles into her shoulder.</p><p>"It's <em>someone's</em> fault. It's Wanda's, or Magneto's, or the Avengers, or—"</p><p>"If it's anyone's fault, then it's everyone's fault. Wanda wasn't well. We should have seen that, and taken better care of her."</p><p>"I bet you did that, in TJ's world."</p><p>"I hope so." It had been some time since he'd seen TJ. He prayed she'd been off-world the previous week, but had no way to be certain. As usual, he told himself that if TJ needed him, she'd find a way to reach him. She'd proven adept at such things in the past; his counterpart had raised a hero, not a damsel.</p><p>"You're going to find her some day, you know."</p><p>"Who—TJ?"</p><p>"No—Wanda. <em>Your</em> Wanda, whoever she is. Then you're gonna get married in a big church, and move into a big house in Westchester, and have a million adorable blue babies."</p><p>He assumed she was joking. That didn't sound like him at all, at least, not anytime soon. "You've got my future all planned, hm?"</p><p>"What do you think of it?"</p><p>"I think that for the moment… I'd rather be here."</p><p>"Decimated as we are?"</p><p>His answer was easy. "Yes."</p><p>Kitty's voice tickled his ear, yet seemed faraway as she said, "Me too."</p><p>Kurt no longer saw the stars, or the greenhouse, or the roof, or even himself. There was only Kitty, just the perfect shape of her shoulders within his arm, the rhythm of her hand in his fur, and the weight of her head on his arm, all of it familiar, from better times, and worse ones; each time it had seemed like the end of the world, they'd still had each other.</p><p>He wanted to let her know how grateful he was for that, so he ducked his head to brush his lips across her forehead. But when he touched her, Kitty flinched, and reached for his offending cheek. "Oooh, scratchy…"</p><p>"Sorry," he offered, flinching in turn and then smiling into her fingers as her hand blindly fumbled across his face. "I forgot."</p><p>"S'okay," she murmured, fingers stopping their mad scramble to settle for stroking his rough cheek. "Just surprised me. You're usually so soft."</p><p>That was objectively true, but her saying it so bluntly did something strange to his chest. He enjoyed the idea of Kitty knowing how soft he was.</p><p>"I never used to think you shaved," she said, fingers slipping down his cheek to his neck.</p><p>Kitty couldn't see the face that he made, but he made it anyway, legitimately surprised. "Really?"</p><p>"It's kinda weird that you have to."</p><p>"One might equally say, it's weird for you to think I <em>wouldn't</em> have to."</p><p>"I guess I just thought… with your fur…"</p><p>"It was a bit difficult to figure out as a teenager… but then, that's true for most men."</p><p>"God, you as a teenager…"</p><p>When Kitty didn't continue, he prompted, "You're not going to finish that thought?"</p><p>"I bet you were cute," she said. She was touching his jaw, now, thumb stirring the mix of fur and stubble below his ear.</p><p>"I'm <em>still</em> cute," he reminded her, another objective truth.</p><p>"Yeah, but I bet you were cuter."</p><p>She was probably right, though he wasn't sure if she would have liked his younger self. At fourteen, he'd been the polar opposite of Kitty at the same age. While she'd been serious about everything, he'd seldom been serious about anything. He'd cared more about finding excuses to slip off to the woods with Amanda than studying, though he had liked reading, if the book was about something that interested him, like swordplay, or pirates, or globe-trotting adventures. The only thing besides Amanda he'd been serious about had been performing. He'd dearly loved performing. He'd loved the challenge, and the applause, and the way the applause had spurred him to greater challenges. He'd especially loved the challenge of making his body not just strong and agile, but graceful. Athleticism had always come easy; grace was something he'd had to learn.</p><p>"I wish you'd seen me perform." He spoke the words without thinking, a simple expression of desire.</p><p>"I see you doing double backflips in spandex all the time," she observed.</p><p>"Ja, but performing is different. There's more finesse, more feeling. It's more fluid, more…"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"More beautiful," he finished. He still preferred performing over fighting, and likely always would. But life hadn't given him a choice. Too many people needed him to fight, now more than ever.</p><p>If he didn't know better, he could have sworn he heard a note of regret in Kitty's voice when she said, "I believe you."</p><p>After a moment, she added, in a brighter tone, "You should grow it."</p><p>"Hm?" He was still thinking about Kitty watching him under the big top, or better yet, joining him on the trapeze, her hair carefully plaited, her body hugged by sequins.</p><p>"Your beard. You should grow it."</p><p>"Nooo…. I don't think so."</p><p>"Why not?"</p><p>"It doesn't suit me."</p><p>"One bad facial hair look three years ago does not dictate every future look."</p><p>"I'd be less cute if I grew it."</p><p>Her own smooth cheek found its way into the crook of his neck, so that her lips moved against his fur as she said, "Forget cute—go for handsome."</p><p>She remained there after she said it, her lips on his neck, warm, soft, and a tiny bit damp. Her mouth was also slightly open, as though she wasn't just touching him—she was kissing him. Did she realize she was kissing him? How much had they actually had to drink? His skin was warmer than it should have been, but he didn't feel hazy. Instead, he merely felt calm, and good—entirely too good. It was the best he'd felt in a week, or several weeks, or even months. The last time he could remember feeling similarly good was four months ago, when he'd been kissing Christine in the garden, trying to decide whether to accept her very clear invitation to spend the night. That probably meant he'd had too much to drink. Because this wasn't Christine, or Amanda, or even Ororo whose warmth he was strongly tempted to sink into. This was Kitty.</p><p>He cleared his throat, and drew back, tail uncoiling from Kitty's ankle as he peeled his fingers off her shoulder, "Maybe we should…"</p><p>Kitty was blinking dazedly, like she was waking from dream. "Oh… yeah, if you… I mean, I guess it's kinda late?"</p><p>It was a fitting choice of words. Another minute in her arms, and it almost certainly would been too late to stop himself from kissing her, not on her forehead, or his neck, but on her whiskey-stained lips. That thought propelled him to his feet, which made him feel both better and worse. Better because he was further away from being able to kiss Kitty. Worse because he was further away from being able to kiss Kitty.</p><p>Kitty pushed herself up after him, looking almost as weary as when she'd joined him in the kitchen. Each stiff movement caused a twinge in his heart, as well as his gut. In another world, in which she wasn't her, and he wasn't him, he could help ease those knots, with the aid of a warm bath and a lengthy massage. He swept a steadying hand through his hair as she shifted his weight on the sloped roof, deciding he'd definitely had too much to drink.</p><p>Kitty stepped to his side, and said, "I guess we should…"</p><p>"Ja," he managed. He was hesitant to take her hand, but did so anyway; it was safer that way, with her weight connected to his.</p><p>"I'm not looking forward to this, with a stomach full of whiskey…"</p><p>"I'll try to make it a smooth ride," he promised.</p><p>"Can you control that?"</p><p>"Not really. Though it does help if you—"</p><p>Kitty stepped readily into his body, until she was once more resting on his hip with her arm around his waist. She still felt good there. Just like the first time. Just like so many other times. Kurt took a deep breath, and teleported.</p><p>When they materialized in the kitchen, she staggered a bit against him, and he placed a hand in the small of her back to steady her. Within a moment, she'd recovered herself, but her arm remained around his waist, while his hand stayed on her back. Her stagger had tilted her body, so that her hips had turned into his, and his chest was at the perfect angle for her to place her free hand on his heart, which she did. In the pregnant pause that followed, Kitty seemed transfixed by that hand. He was equally frozen, wondering if she was going to slide her hand up his collarbone to his neck, and pull his face down to hers.</p><p>"It's going to be so quiet," she said, her voice low, yet somehow crystal clear. "I wish…"</p><p>They both started as the fridge door slammed shut, and another familiar voice drawled, "You guys better get a room and start repopulating the species."</p><p>Kitty stepped away from his hips with determined casualness, but Kurt's quick retreat only managed to be awkward, his feet suddenly forgetting they'd ever been graceful. Bobby was shirtless with an ice pack draped over his shoulder, yet he still appeared warm, his skin flushed pink everywhere the ice didn't touch.</p><p>"Hey Bobby," Kitty greeted. "How are you?"</p><p>With ironic cheer, the former Iceman replied, "You know, awful. And hot. Incredibly hot. Like it's 150 degrees everywhere that's not a few inches from the fridge door, where it's a temperate 120. You?"</p><p>"We're fine," Kurt answered for both of them, knowing it was the only possible response.</p><p>Bobby nodded vaguely as he made his way toward them, then stopped, blue eyes flickering. "Wait—did I actually interrupt something?"</p><p>"Nein—"</p><p>"Of course not…"</p><p>In the same moment, they realized they were still holding hands, and quickly stopped doing so. Kurt's hands retreated into his pockets, while Kitty's curled around her biceps as she stiffly crossed her arms.</p><p>"Oooookay…" said Bobby, hitching up his pyjama pants as he readjusted the ice pack around his neck. "Well, I was just… heading this way, so…"</p><p>They watched in helpless silence as Bobby all but tiptoed past them, side-eyeing them until he finally backed out the door, and disappeared down the hall.</p><p>To break the awkward silence, Kitty forced a smile and said, "Good to know some things haven't changed. With Bobby, I mean."</p><p>"Ja, thank goodness," Kurt agreed, hands opening and closing inside his pockets. The tiles were flat and cool under his bare feet, but he could have sworn he was balancing on a tightrope, if he'd ever had trouble balancing on a tightrope, which he hadn't.</p><p>Flatly, and with her eyes wandering along the kitchen cupboards, Kitty said, "I left the whiskey."</p><p>"It's okay—I can go back."</p><p>"I thought maybe… we could leave it there. For next time."</p><p>His eyes sought hers, and she met his gaze bravely, if not quite calmly.</p><p>Kurt found himself saying, "I'd like that."</p><p>Kitty's face lit up with a close-lipped smile as she suddenly lunged forward, and planted a kiss at the crest of his cheek. When she pulled back, he was the one left blinking, stupidly, in her wake.</p><p>"G'night, fuzzy."</p><p>"Goodnight, Katzchen."</p><p>There was a new spring in her step as she pivoted on her heel, walked to the door, and turned the corner. Then, she was gone.</p><p>Like a man in a dream, Kurt padded to the counter, picked up the beer he'd abandoned there, rinsed it out in the sink, and deposited it in the appropriate bin. Then he went back to his quarters the slow way, needing the walk, and almost enjoying it. He was still alone, but feeling a little less so. For the first time in a week, he wasn't dreading the prospect of waking up to a new day.</p><p>
  <strong>~END~ (for now…)</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Why didn't they just go ahead and kiss already…?! Wait, I wrote it, which means I'm yelling at myself, lol. Sorry for the anticlimax, but hopefully the longing was enjoyable! And if you're worried about how Kurt's facial hair works—don't. It's never made a lick of sense; better to just roll with it, especially if you liked his X-Men: Red look ;) </p><p>Canon stuff: I changed M-Day to September instead of November for the simple reason I didn't want to have to write in Kitty and Kurt grabbing coats to bring to the roof (yeah, I'm lazy like that, lol). Kurt was in a coma between his original stint in Uncanny X-Men and the start of Excalibur; there have been numerous flashbacks over the years to Kitty (seemingly the last surviving X-Man besides Kurt) being there when he wakes up. TJ (aka Nocturne) is Kurt's daughter with Wanda Maximoff from another universe; they've hung out several times (but she's been MIA for years, as far as I know?). Azazel's demon status remains nebulous, I think? He's either an actual demon or a really old mutant who fancies himself a demon. Hence, the nature of Kurt's mutations is messy and weird. I don't think Mystique has ever mentioned her past with Logan to Kurt, but it seems like something she might do. Am I suggesting Logan might have feelings for Kurt...? Maybe. Have the comics suggested this in the past? I think so, but that's one of those things that looks different to different readers—make of it what you will! I made up the student who talked to Kurt in the library; there were a lot of rando students we never saw again in the Astonishing X-Men era, I felt.</p><p>I guess this series is resurrected now, so I better write more! But what? I don't know, but maybe you do! I'm open to suggestions from interested parties. If you've read this series, you know what I like—angst and continuity gaps, aggravating the former, and healing the latter :) So what angsty gap should I tackle next…? Kurt's return from heaven? Kurt waking from his coma pre-Excalibur? (Love me some hurt/comfort.) Brian and Meggan's wedding reception? (I clearly also love alcohol-fueled heart-to-hearts.) Krakoa era? (Please don't say Krakoa era—I'm only one girl, and that would take so much re-writing where Kitty and Kurt are concerned.) Leave a review or comment to let me know!</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. At the Starlight Citadel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This is set in the immediate-ish aftermath of Excalibur #125—the final issue of the series, in which Brian and Meggan get married in Otherworld, and Kitty, Kurt, and Piotr announce they'll be returning to the X-Men. That's probably all the context you need—imagine a typical wedding reception with slightly more magic and weirdness :) There is drinking involved but absolutely nothing non-consensual.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>At the Starlight Citadel</strong>
</p><p>Kurt was dancing with Amanda. Except they weren't so much dancing as using the excuse of dancing to be draped across each other in a crowd. At least, that's what it looked like to Kitty, from her vantage point sitting on a stone ledge bordering a lush garden bed in the courtyard outside the glorious domed cathedral where Brian and Meggan had gotten married earlier that day, which was now playing host to a raucous reception. They weren't on Earth, or even in space. They were at Roma's Starlight Citadel in Otherworld, a mysterious nexus of dimensions where everything was magical, and anything was possible. But Kitty wasn't feeling very magical. Instead, she just felt grumpy, and tired, and lonely. And she didn't understand why.</p><p>Maybe it was the fact that even though less than two weeks had passed she'd broken up with Pete Wisdom, everyone, including Kurt and her beloved Lockheed, seemed determined to resurrect her long-dormant romance with Peter Rasputin. Kitty had finally started to enjoy the new relationship she'd forged with Peter, built on friendship and trust. The swirl of romantic speculation was threatening to spoil that, and she hated it; she wanted to look to the future, not retreat into the past. After ensuring Meggan's garter had landed in Peter's hands before making it onto Kitty thigh, Lockheed had flitted away. That was probably for the best; Kitty knew the dragon meant well, but he wasn't in her good books at the moment.</p><p>Or maybe her ill mood had something to do with was the fact their Nazi doppelgangers were at the party. Kitty understood that in Otherworld, Earthly conflicts were meant to be suspended, forgotten, at least temporarily, in deference to the cosmic import of the place, whose guardians viewed such conflicts as ludicrously small. But Kitty would have to be dead in the cold dark ground before she'd be able to look at Nazi versions of her friends accompanied by an enslaved, spectral version of herself without feeling sick with rage.</p><p>Or maybe it was Amanda, showing up unexpectedly months after she left Excalibur without even saying goodbye to Kurt. Kitty didn't want to hate Kurt's foster sister and occasional girlfriend. She knew Kurt didn't. In fact, she was quite sure that despite everything she'd put him through over the years, Kurt still loved her. She wasn't sure if Kurt was still interested in <em>dating</em> Amanda, but wouldn't be surprised if she ended the night in his bed. Kurt was like that; easy with love, and quick to forgive.</p><p>Most of the time, Kitty was able to accept that first thing about Kurt. And although his tremendous capacity for forgiveness was occasionally irritating, it was ultimately one of her favorite things about him. Without it, they might never have become friends after she'd spent her first weeks at the X-Mansion shying away from his fang-tipped smile. But she'd been a dumb thirteen-year-old, and liked to think she'd made up for her mistakes in five years of loyal friendship, during which she'd saved Kurt's life more times than she could count on one hand. What was Amanda's excuse? Amanda, of all people, should be intimately familiar with Kurt's fear of rejection. Yet more than once, she'd walked out on him when he needed her most. It reminded Kitty of Meggan during that first year with Excalibur, when it had seemed like Brian had done nothing to make her feel loved, and everything to make her feel awful. But Meggan had stayed, and Brian had changed. Now, they were married, by all accounts happily, their union blessed by friends and enemies alike, hailing from dozens of different dimensions.</p><p>Kitty cursed herself for caring so much. It was none of her business who Kurt took to bed, or why. He must have his reasons. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe he was just drunk and happy, and wanted to keep being drunk and happy with a gorgeous blonde in his bed. That was okay, too. Why wouldn't it be? It was none of her business.</p><p>A lot of things, lately, felt like they were none of her business. Things had been different since she'd returned from her stint with S.H.I.E.L.D. Sometimes, it felt as though her friends didn't trust her, like she might still be working for the spy agency behind their backs. Kurt had barely consulted her about their forthcoming return to New York and the X-Men. Kurt and Peter had presented the plan for her approval or rejection, but she hadn't been part of the planning. It hadn't felt like deciding as a group whether to stay or go; it had felt, instead, like her best friend and former boyfriend would be going to New York regardless of what she did. Years ago, when she'd been a young teenager surrounded by adults, Kurt never would have treated her opinion so lightly. He would have stayed with her, wherever she'd wanted to be. They'd promised each other as much when they were both walking wounded, and thought they were the last surviving X-Men. What had changed? Why did it seem like her eighteen-year-old self mattered less to Kurt than her fourteen-year-old self had done? And why did it bother her so much?</p><p>Inside the cathedral, bodies were still swaying, leaping, slithering, and stomping, to a song Kitty couldn't make out, though she could feel the pulsing beat beneath her feet. And Amanda was still hanging from Kurt's neck, fingers playing with his hair, lips tickling his pointed ear; they were at the edge of the dancefloor, like they were moving to their own, much slower song. As Kitty watched the scene, a lazy spin turned Kurt to face her. He looked happy, but he wasn't looking at Amanda. Instead, he was surveying the room, like he was looking for something, or someone. Eventually, he looked out the door, and into the courtyard. Then, he looked at Kitty. Somehow, across all that distance, and amid so many distractions, Kurt's golden eyes found hers.</p><p>Before Kitty could blink herself free of his hold, Kurt was whispering something in Amanda's ear, and slipping out of her arms. When he started weaving his way through the dancefloor, Kitty finally tore her eyes away, looking anywhere that wasn't at Kurt. She looked at the assortment of strange and familiar plants in the garden beds on either side of her, and up at the tree above her head, which resembled a palm tree, yet didn't quite match any Earthy variety. Beyond the palm fronds gently rustling in the sweet-smelling breeze, there was an enormous full moon dominating a night sky crammed with stars.</p><p>She pretended not to see Kurt until he was almost at her feet, at which point he came to a slightly stumbling stop, and then stood with his hip slightly tilted, in the opposite direction of his slightly cocked head. Kurt was theatrical anyway, prone to gesticulations and excesses of grace. Alcohol tended to exaggerate those tendencies. At present, the always lithe and graceful body of the former leader of the now-disbanded Excalibur was fluid enough to look like it might actually be made of liquid. His tail was all mischief, and so was his smile, one-and-a-half white fangs glinting in the dark, brighter than the glow of his white pants in the moonlight. His impression of controlled chaos was enhanced by the state of his suit. He'd long since discarded his jacket and tie, and though his red waistcoat remained buttoned, much of his shirt wasn't. His collar was open and his white sleeves were rolled up his indigo forearms, crisply, but unevenly; one sleeve was folded almost to his elbow, the other barely making it past his wrist. Also, he wasn't wearing shoes. Kitty was sure he'd started the night wearing shoes.</p><p>"What are you doing out here?" he inquired, voice thick and musical. "I have it on good authority that all the single ladies are inside tonight, getting 'bodied' and 'stanky'…? I'm not sure if I followed the narrative of that particular song, but a diverse assortment of beings seemed to enjoy it."</p><p>"Wow," Kitty marveled, chuckling silently. It was impossible not to be infected by Kurt's goofy mirth. "You are so drunk…"</p><p>"I'm not drunk. Ich genieße einen schönen Abend mit all meinen Freunden."i</p><p>"Are you aware the second half of that was in German?" she wondered.</p><p>Kurt squinted a quizzical eye. "Are you sure?"</p><p>"I'm definitely <em>not</em> drunk," she replied, "and I don't speak German, so yes, I'm pretty sure."</p><p>"It's a beautiful language. You should learn!" He took an eager step toward her, then pivoted on his heel to drop his shoulder against the tree trunk.</p><p>"You gonna teach me?" she wondered, favoring him with her own suggestion of a smile.</p><p>"We can start right now."</p><p>"What's the first lesson?"</p><p>Kurt pushed himself away from the tree, pivoted again to face her, and extended both hands, palms up. "Darf ich um diesen Tanz bitten?"ii</p><p>"What does that mean?" She'd picked up a couple of words, but couldn't assemble the phrase.</p><p>Hands still extended, Kurt said, in very clear English, "Dance with me."</p><p>Kitty blinked, genuinely taken aback. "What?"</p><p>"I am 90% sure that was in English."</p><p>"I'm not gonna <em>dance</em> with you," she scoffed. It was a ridiculous idea, that deserved being scoffed at.</p><p>"Why not?" Kurt asked, the picture of innocence.</p><p>"I don't dance," she replied, scoff becoming a frown.</p><p>"Since when?"</p><p>"Since I was twelve?"</p><p>"You danced earlier tonight. With Piotr. And Alistair."</p><p>Kitty had actually forgotten; in her mind, both dances barely counted.</p><p>"I'm sure you can find someone else to dance with you," she pointed out. "Ask Amanda. Or Cerise. Or Betsy. Or Lila."</p><p>"I want to dance with <em>you</em>."</p><p>Her frown became a scowl as she crossed her arms securely over her chest. She was still wearing the elbow-length, taffy pink satin gloves that matched her taffy pink satin dress and pumps, and suddenly wished she was wearing something—anything—else. It was hard to look serious in head-to-toe taffy pink satin.</p><p>"Well, I'm not available."</p><p>"Oh?" Kurt's golden eyes widened. "Are you and Piotr—"</p><p>"<em>No</em>. I'm <em>available</em> just… not for dancing."</p><p>"Okay then." Kurt sprang forward again, and alighted on the stone ledge next to her.</p><p>Kitty stared at him like he'd just stolen food off his plate (something she did to him all the time). "What are you doing?"</p><p>"Sitting down," he replied.</p><p>"I know that—but why?"</p><p>Kurt shrugged. "Because you don't want to dance."</p><p>"But you do. You love dancing."</p><p>"I like you more."</p><p>The world around Kitty seemed to slow, yet her heart sped up, fluttering giddily in her chest. She wondered if it was an effect of Otherworld, where time worked in mysterious ways. That must be it.</p><p>Kurt was making himself comfortable, bringing a knee up to his chest and wrapping an arm around his leg. His tail dangled over the ledge, tip rhythmically twitching. Kitty did her best to follow his lead, shifting to face him as she folded one leg over the other beneath her long dress, and extended her arms behind her.</p><p>"You seem… weirdly happy," she observed.</p><p>Kurt looked both ways, then asked, in a low voice, "Can you keep a secret?" Suddenly alert, Kitty leaned forward to let Kurt whisper into her ear, "I may have been drinking."</p><p>She rolled her eyes as she leaned back again, at herself as much as Kurt. "Idiot…"</p><p>Kurt merely grinned, entirely too pleased with himself. "You, on the other hand, seem strangely <em>un</em>happy. Is something…?"</p><p>"It's nothing," she said quickly, re-crossing her arms and dropping her eyes to the interlocking stone tiles at their feet. "I'm fine."</p><p>Kurt sat up straighter, and regarded her with as much gravity as he could muster. "What's wrong?"</p><p>"<em>Nothing's</em> wrong," she insisted, forcing herself to confront his earnest gaze.</p><p>"So you're digging your fingers into your forearms and scowling at me for absolutely no reason?"</p><p>Self-conscious but trying hard not to be, Kitty uncrossed her arms. "Yes."</p><p>Kurt pursed his lips below a furrowed brow, but didn't press further. In the silence that followed, he studied the night while she studied the erratically twitching tip of his tail.</p><p>Finally, he said, "If you won't dance with me, and you won't talk to me… perhaps you'd walk with me?"</p><p>Kitty raised her eyes from his agitated tail. "You're gonna go crazy if you have to sit still for another 30 seconds, aren't you?"</p><p>"Yes, probably."</p><p>His honestly inspired a needed snort of laughter. "Well, I wouldn't want that…"</p><p>Kurt unfolded himself with as much fluid grace as he'd folded himself, offering her a hand she couldn't resist accepting. He hauled her effortlessly to her feet, which surprised her, but shouldn't have; all of Kurt's improbable acrobatics required tremendous strength. Sensing the gesture veering dangerously close to a twirl, Kitty phased out of his grip, and reminded him, "We're walking—not dancing."</p><p>"Of course," Kurt agreed, seriousness belied by a twinge of a smile.</p><p>They'd barely taken three steps when Kurt suddenly halted, and said, "Wait a moment."</p><p>Kitty dutifully waited as Kurt BAMF'ed away. She was still waving sulphurous smoke out of her face when another cloud BAMF'ed in. Kurt stepped out of the purple smoke holding a highball glass and a champagne flute.</p><p>"Should you teleport while drunk?" she questioned. "Isn't that, you know—dangerous?"</p><p>"I wouldn't know," Kurt replied. "Since I'm not drunk."</p><p>Kitty rolled her eyes a second time as Kurt offered her the champagne. "Bubbly for you. Water for me."</p><p>She stared at the glass, wondering if it would taste like the brimstone dimension it passed through. "You know I'm 18, right?"</p><p>"I know 18 is well over the legal drinking age where I'm from. And that I've seen you drink before."</p><p>Kitty continued to hesitate. She'd consumed a few beverages earlier in the night, but the only other time she'd had real champagne had been in Paris with Sat-Yr-9 impersonating Courtney Ross, when she'd been trying to forget the pain of being hopelessly separated from Kurt, Rachel, Brian, and Meggan.</p><p>"I'm sorry," said Kurt withdrawing the glass. "I didn't mean to pressure you."</p><p>He began to discard the champagne on the ledge they'd recently vacated, but Kitty touched his wrist, stopping him. "Gimme that."</p><p>She felt Kurt watching her as she raised the champagne to her lips and gave it an experimental sip. It was good—light and crisp, like drinking a fall breeze on a late summer evening. It was better, even, than the champagne she'd shared with Sat-Yr-9. Then again, this probably wasn't champagne. Or maybe it was, from some other Champagne region of France from another dimension, set in the past or the future.</p><p>They ambled in silence for a while, close but not touching, Kurt dutifully sipping his water as Kitty thoughtfully sipped her sparkling beverage that may or may not have been champagne. The winding garden paths were lit by the moon and by globes of light suspended in the air between the palm-like trees. Kitty didn't see any wires; the globes seemed to float and glow under their own power, and occasionally bob and shift, so that the light wavered and twinkled across the trees, plants, tiles, and softly burbling fountains, and of course over their bodies. Kurt's white shirt and pants were luminescent, but every exposed part of him that wasn't his eyes kept shifting in and out of shadow. That made his liquid movements even more so, his indigo fur rippling like the surface of a pond in the wind. Kitty was used to the way light played in Kurt's fur, but hoped she'd never take it for granted. There was something otherworldly about Kurt that had to be seen to be believed, and even then, she sometimes couldn't believe it. She especially couldn't believe she'd ever been afraid of him. Kurt wasn't scary, he was—</p><p>"Beautiful, isn't it?"</p><p>Kitty didn't realize she'd been staring until he looked at her, golden eyes vivid above his equally vivid smile. She shook her head to clear it before replying, "I dunno, everything here is… weird."</p><p>As she said it, a cluster of fireflies droned past her, except they were bigger than fireflies, and definitely brighter; their light danced across Kurt's face as his smile settled into something calmer.</p><p>"And that's bad?" he asked.</p><p>"I dunno," she repeated, wishing her dress had pockets to hide and ground her hands. "But I could do without some of the guests."</p><p>She didn't mean Amanda. Kurt's smile fell completely as he said, "We've never talked about those particular counterparts. We can, if you—"</p><p>"He's not you," Kitty interrupted. "So, there's nothing to talk about."</p><p>Kurt nodded slowly, golden eyes wandering into the night. "Despite all the wondrous places we've been, and all the impossible things we've seen… it is beyond my power to imagine any world in which he could possibly be me."</p><p>Kitty forced down a swallow; he didn't sound drunk anymore. She reached her satin-gloved hand toward his indigo one, and breathed easier when his fingers curled around hers, familiar, warm, and right. She wished she could take off her gloves, to properly feel his fur on her skin. But she didn't know how to manage it without revealing her intent; she felt funny about letting Kurt know how much she enjoyed the feel of him.</p><p>Eventually, she decided she was ready to steer the conversation toward something ostensibly lighter, that might make better use of Kurt's lowered inhibitions. "So… Cerise is here…"</p><p>Kurt gave her a sidelong look. "I noticed that, yes."</p><p>"How did that go?"</p><p>"You didn't see?"</p><p>"Um, no?"</p><p>Kurt flexed his jaw as his eyes flickered away. "She… ahem… cut into a dance with Amanda, and then she… slapped me."</p><p>Kitty skidded to a stop, champagne splashing her glove. "She <em>what</em>?"</p><p>Kurt shifted his bare feet on the tiles, still avoiding her eyes. "She's apparently quite angry I didn't come for her after she was released from the Alsibarian prison camp."</p><p>"Did you even know she was out?"</p><p>"Actually, I did. I heard from Scott, who heard from Corsair."</p><p>"But you didn't try to contact her?"</p><p>"I considered it, but thought, given our current reputation with the Shi'ar, and Cerise's shaky legal footing… it might do more harm than good."</p><p>"And yet, she slapped you,"</p><p>"Cerise has a… passionate nature."</p><p>"Where you're concerned, at least."</p><p>Kurt finally looked at her, golden eyes glittering. "We did have fun together, once upon a time."</p><p>"I'm sorry you didn't get your happily ever after," Kitty said genuinely, tugging his hand to start them walking again. "I remember how upset you were when we had to leave her behind." The afternoon he'd returned from space without Cerise was one of the very few times Kurt has ever raised his voice in her direction. He'd been angry about her not following orders in his absence, but hadn't really been mad about that; he'd simply needed to feel less helpless, and apologized quickly when she pointed that out.</p><p>"That was… difficult," Kurt admitted, releasing a long breath as he fell into step beside her. "Though I doubt Cerise and I were destined for a happily ever after, regardless."</p><p>"Oh?" she asked, feigning disinterest. She wanted to hear more, but suspected even an inebriated Kurt might shut down the topic if she tried too hard to encourage him.</p><p>"I cared for her, very much," said Kurt. "But the conversation was… Let's just say it wasn't her strength."</p><p>"Strength was more her strength," Kitty observed. "Bet <em>that</em> was interesting in the bedroom…"</p><p>When Kurt looked at her, his half-shadowed face was engaged in a pitched battle—as though he wanted to laugh or make his own joke, but was just sober enough to feel he shouldn't.</p><p>Kitty considered teasing him further. Instead, she found herself saying, "I'm not a little girl, Kurt. Did you think I didn't know you were sleeping together?"</p><p>"No, I…" Kurt cleared his throat, and tried again. "Of course I know that—both things. But we don't usually… talk about such things." He paused, then added, "I was also realizing that during that time, we shared some fairly close quarters…"</p><p>Kitty raised an eyebrow, giving in to her impulse to tease him. "Are you wondering if I ever heard you?"</p><p>"I have no clue how to answer that…"</p><p>"There were… noises," she admitted, contributing a determinedly nonchalant shrug. "But it's not like I was, you know… <em>listening</em>…"</p><p>"Of course not," Kurt said quickly. "And I never… with you and Wisdom…"</p><p>"<em>Wisdom</em> doesn't have super-strength," she reminded him.</p><p>Kurt cleared his throat again, projecting a mix of embarrassment and pride. "I am… very sorry. As I said, Cerise is—"</p><p>"A woman of passion. I get it."</p><p>"We did have some good times together…" he sighed, surrendering to a dreamy smile as he cast his gaze back into the night.</p><p>Kitty knew Kurt's alcohol-drenched brain was probably flipping through memories of those good times. She was thinking about them too, something she hadn't spent much time doing when they happened. Two years ago, when she'd heard a loud crack in Kurt's quarters and raced upstairs to investigate, she'd wisely hesitated outside the door, without calling Kurt's name. She'd heard other sounds, then, that she'd been embarrassingly slow to recognize for what they were. Recalling the incident in the present, she found herself wondering what, exactly, Kurt and Cerise had been doing. The pink glow of Cerise's solid-light armor had been visible under the door, and she seemed like the type of woman who was born to be on top…</p><p>"I suppose you'll be asking me about Amanda next."</p><p>Kitty started a little, realizing how far her mind had wandered. "You could just tell me instead of waiting for me to ask."</p><p>"It wasn't her choice to leave," said Kurt. "She was being manipulated by our mother. As usual."</p><p>"And?"</p><p>"And… I don't know." After a moment, he added, "We're not getting back together."</p><p>"Uh huh." Kitty had heard that before.</p><p>"You sound like you don't believe me."</p><p>"I saw you dancing together…"</p><p>"She asked me. Repeatedly. Should I have said no?"</p><p>"That's always an option."</p><p>They shared a look before Kurt's eyes dropped to the tiles. "She's my sister. I know how that sounds, but I…"</p><p>He slowed to a stop as he trailed off, staring thoughtfully toward the horizon. The Citadel was effectively a space station—a floating island suspended above the magical realm of Avalon. As a result, it had definite borders. From where they were standing, they could see the distant spot where the platform ended, and fell into space. It looked like the end of the world.</p><p>"The things we've been through together…" he continued. "Amanda will always be family."</p><p>"I know that, but—you can do better."</p><p>If Kurt heard her, he didn't give any sign. He finished his water, then released her hand to step toward one of the many garden beds, placing his empty glass on a ledge. Kitty studied his back as he continued to gaze into the stars beyond the Citadel, tail swishing languorously behind his ankles. His silhouette was ghostly—clothes bright, the rest of him dark, so much so he was almost invisible, like he might have been part of the night or the sky, or like he belonged to the magic of the place, at once timeless and ethereal. Kitty shivered, but not from cold. The breeze was the same as the air—not warm, or cool, but simply there. More noticeable was the smell. The breeze smelled like jasmine, maybe, or something less specific, like the smell of a memory she couldn't quite place.</p><p>Addressing the sky, Kurt said, "Amanda was fourteen when she first performed on the trapeze. I was thirteen, and hadn't performed yet. Our mother wasn't sure if… Anyway—when Amanda took that first leap, jewels in her golden hair, stage lights dancing in sequins… I was sure I'd never seen anything more beautiful. She was like an angel—an angel who didn't care that I wasn't."</p><p>It was unusual for Kurt to share such a memory; he rarely communicated specific details about his past, and had never spoken openly about his feelings for Amanda. But Kitty couldn't find it in her heart to be grateful; Amanda was no angel. "You can do better," she repeated, with conviction.</p><p>As Kurt turned to her, a look passed over his shadowy features that Kitty couldn't hope to place. Suddenly, she wished it was daytime, or that the fireflies would make another pass; it would be nice to see more of Kurt's face.</p><p>His voice, at least, was bright as he asked, "What about you? That dragon of yours seems very determined to send you walking down another aisle with a certain Russian strongman."</p><p>Kitty frowned, remembering the way Kurt had pushed her into the crush of women vying for Meggan's bouquet. "He's not the only one," she reminded him.</p><p>"I wanted you to catch the <em>bouquet</em>. I had nothing to do with the garter."</p><p>"Fine," she conceded. "But that still means you want to marry me off."</p><p>"I want you to be happy. With whoever makes you the most happy."</p><p>Something about Kurt's words hit her strangely. Wisdom had sometimes made her happy, especially at the beginning, when things had been new, and fresh, and she'd still been in awe of being treated like a woman by a man ten years older than herself. Peter had also made her happy years ago, back when all it took to make her happy was being acknowledged as loveable by the man she wanted to love her. But most of her happiest memories from the past four years were of times spent with Kurt, watching a movie, or taking a stroll along the coast, or having a picnic on the shore during one of the few Scottish afternoons pleasant enough to allow it, or resting her head on his shoulder after the end of a long mission, his one-of-a-kind hand holding her own shoulders close, but casually, like it was something they did all the time, which of course it was.</p><p>"I was surprised when Meggan paired me with Peter in the wedding party," she said, watching the few remaining bubbles pop and spit inside her glass. "I figured…"</p><p>"What?" Kurt prompted, low voice drifting on the sweet-smelling breeze.</p><p>Still studying her champagne, Kitty said, "Even though Betsy is Brian's sister... I kinda thought I'd be walking with you." Roma's words during the ceremony passed through her mind: <em>Each pairing of bridesmaid and groomsman symbolizes a union. A </em><em><strong>connection</strong></em><em>. The binding of souls…</em></p><p>Kurt stepped closer. When he spoke, Kitty could feel the warm smile in his voice. "I would have been honored to escort you, Katzchen. Although you do realize—if we'd been paired in the wedding party, we would have had to dance."</p><p>Kitty succumbed to a needed snort of amusement. "You're not gonna quit, are you?"</p><p>"The night is young."</p><p>His mirth was back, as infectious as always. But a close-lipped smile was the best she could manage; an air of melancholy continued to hang over the scene, for reasons she still couldn't place.</p><p>"Or maybe it's old," she said. "In Otherworld, time feels…"</p><p>"Like all the times, in one time. Like everything we've done, everywhere we've been, is here, in this moment."</p><p>She would have said that sounded crazy, except she felt it, too—the sense that everything had been leading to the crossroads at which they currently found themselves, preparing to turn down a path that was at once old and new.</p><p>"Kurt… what's going to happen to us?"</p><p>"When?"</p><p>"Next week. When we get back to New York."</p><p>"We'll be X-Men again."</p><p>"But what's going to happen to <em>us</em>?" She met his eyes as she said it, wanting him to see the look in hers, and know she was serious.</p><p>"We'll still be together," Kurt offered.</p><p>"If the Professor, or Scott, or Ororo want us on separate teams…"</p><p>"It's not a dictatorship. We'll still get to choose."</p><p>"That's really how you think it'll go down?"</p><p>Kurt's gaze flickered. "We'll figure it out."</p><p>"That's it?"</p><p>"What would you like me to say?"</p><p>"You always have a plan."</p><p>"That's what you think?"</p><p>The question surprised her. "Yes."</p><p>His smile became rueful as he said, "I'm flattered, but I'm fumbling in the dark, like everyone else."</p><p>"But you can see in the dark," she insisted, confused by the need to remind him.</p><p>"If that ability could solve every problem, our time with Excalibur would have been much less eventful."</p><p>Kitty's own gaze flickered. She told herself Kurt couldn't be serious; he was just drunk, making jokes to throw her off the scent of something else. "You didn't talk to me first—when you decided to go back."</p><p>"I did talk to you," Kurt corrected. "We had a team meeting."</p><p>"But you didn't talk to <em>me</em>. You and Peter decided. And then told me about it."</p><p>"That's not how I remember it."</p><p>She looked away, out toward the black sky and glittering stars. But she was really seeing a memory—the first time she'd seen Kurt's eyes open and glowing in his indigo face after the three-month coma that nearly killed him. She'd been so happy he was alive, and even happier that she'd no longer be alone—that there'd be at least one other X-Man at her side, to help her remember their friends, and fight on in their memory.</p><p>Her voice sounded more like the girl she'd been than the woman she'd become when she said, "You promised we'd stay together."</p><p>"That's what you're upset about? I thought…"</p><p>When Kitty turned to him, his golden gaze was waiting. "What?"</p><p>"I thought you might want to stay. With Wisdom. I didn't want to assume—"</p><p>"I'd broken up with Wisdom."</p><p>"I didn't know that at the time. As you'll recall—you didn't talk to me about it."</p><p>That was true. Why hadn't she told him? And did she detect a hint of anger in his voice? Kurt sounded almost… hurt.</p><p>"I wouldn't have known what to say about Wisdom," she confessed. "I <em>still</em> don't."</p><p>"You could try." One corner of his mouth crept ever-so-slightly upwards as he added, "If you're lucky—I may not remember it tomorrow."</p><p>Kitty swallowed her last drop of champagne, and set her glass on the ledge next to Kurt's. Realizing her tired arches envied the glasses, she followed them down to the ledge. Kurt in turn followed her, taking them back to the start, sitting under the faintly rusting fronds of a not-quite palm tree.</p><p>"Wisdom treated me like an adult," she said at last. "He didn't think I was pretty, he thought I was… Well, you know. I liked how we could fight, and make up, and fight again, and it didn't mean he didn't love me. It meant he didn't think I needed coddling. And I didn't. I liked standing up to him. I've always been the youngest member of the team, and I've sometimes felt… Being with Wisdom made me feel like I belonged. I know it's stupid…"</p><p>She'd been watching her pink gloves twisting in her lap, but raised her eyes when Kurt touched her, unique fingers curling around her bare shoulder.</p><p>"I'm so very sorry."</p><p>"For what?" she wondered.</p><p>"For ever making you feel like you didn't belong."</p><p>He opened his hand to ghost the backs of his fingers down her arm, velvet fur tingling on her skin. She wanted to tell him he didn't need to apologize. He'd never made her feel left out, not really. And she'd never really fit in with Wisdom. It had just felt like that, for a while. Until it hadn't, which happened remarkably quickly. Kitty didn't clearly understand any of it, let along possess the words to explain it. At present, she only knew one thing for sure—she liked the feel of Kurt's fingers on her skin, and very much wanted to keep them there.</p><p>"I think I know how you can make it up to me," she said.</p><p>"Anything."</p><p>She rose decisively to her feet, and extended both hands to Kurt, palms up. "Dance with me."</p><p>Kurt looked up at her, blinking. "Are you joking?"</p><p>"Do I look like I'm joking?"</p><p>Kurt remained seated, regarding her through narrowed eyes.</p><p>"Offer's good for exactly five more seconds," Kitty warned. "Five, four, three…"</p><p>Before she reached "two," Kurt seized her gloved hands, and let her haul him to his feet. She guided him toward the open center of the courtyard, then stopped. "Wait a minute."</p><p>She released his hands to roll her taffy pink gloves down her arms, tossed them toward the garden bed, then stepped out of her taffy pink pumps. She'd lasted as long as she had in her heels by intermittently air walking, but even that got exhausting after a while. If Kurt could be barefoot, she should be allowed, too.</p><p>"I didn't realize this was strip dancing," said Kurt, popping opening the first button on his waistcoat. "Do I owe you four—"</p><p>"Did I mention this offer's contingent on a lack of bad jokes?" Part of her wondered what he might do if she didn't call his bluff. She wouldn't put it past him to continue stripping in the courtyard; Kurt had never been particularly shy about parting with his clothes.</p><p>Kurt was grinning as he dutifully stopped undressing. "I thought that was a pretty good—"</p><p>"Okay, we're done here…" She pretended to storm off, but didn't get far.</p><p>"Wait wait wait…" Kurt leapt forward, and grabbed her hand. "I promise I will make every attempt to subdue my natural charm for the next… three minutes."</p><p>"Three minutes," she intoned, turning to face him.</p><p>"I'm only <em>human</em>, Katzchen."</p><p>"Fine…" she sighed, fighting a smile. She didn't trust herself to let Kurt know how badly she suddenly wanted to dance with him—to hold his liquid grace in her hands, and feel it pour through her flesh.</p><p>She stepped bravely into his body, fumbling a bit with her hands, but got it sorted out quickly, left hand at his neck, the other in his hand, while his right hand folded around her back, settling in the space between her shoulder blades. It had been a long time since she'd done any formal dancing, though not as long as she'd told Kurt. During her trip to Paris with Sat-Yr-9 impersonating Courtney, sailing down the Seine with a belly full of champagne, she'd danced for hours with a man she knew only as Andre. Dancing with Andre had been easy, and not just because of the champagne and romantic moonlight. Thinking back, Kitty realized that Andre's lithe body and quick smile had reminded her at least a little of Kurt.</p><p>In the present, Kitty realized, "We don't have any music." They were far enough from the cathedral that the party no longer even echoed under their feet.</p><p>"We don't need it," Kurt replied.</p><p>With one large finger, he tapped a gentle rhythm against her spine, and then pressed her flesh to lead her, back, and then forward, turning slowly at first, letting her catch the rhythm, of the imaginary song, and of him. There were no hitches to Kurt's movements, no staccato to any double-time steps. The way he moved was smooth, and natural—like the most natural thing in the world.</p><p>Kitty threw herself with vigor into the first extended twirl, wishing once again she was wearing something different, though this time, she wished it was a different dress, something with more waves and folds, that would twist open when she did, and flutter against her bare legs. Something did brush her legs as she was gathered back into Kurt's body after one of the next twirls, but it wasn't her dress. It was Kurt's tail, forked tip and some of the velvet length curving around her calves, then winding open again, flowing like the rest of him, and all of her, her whole body weightless, but tangible—so very tangible. If she'd been using her powers, she wouldn't have been able to feel the fine grains of Kurt's fur flicking under her fingers, or the tender press of his hand on her back, warm on her bare skin.</p><p>When he tossed her effortlessly into the air, she squealed with a girlish pleasure that should have embarrassed her, but didn't. She landed on the balls of her bare feet and spun back toward the light of Kurt's smile, smiling in turn. The next time she twirled, she watched him, taut acrobat's frame extended and beautifully posed to present their shared grace to a non-existent audience. A sheaf of moonlight sliced through the palms to spill across his cheek and the exposed grove of his chest, lending an electric buzz to his shadow-dark fur. Kitty's heart seized a little as she remembered—every inch of him would look like that, if she'd let him continue unbuttoning his waistcoat.</p><p>She stumbled a bit spinning back into his chest, and took a moment to steady herself, settling both hands around his neck. Kurt didn't seem to mind; he settled his own hands in her lower back and lingered with her, no longer dancing so much as gently swaying to a still-imaginary song.</p><p>"I can't imagine why you're so reticent to dance," said Kurt. "You're very good at it."</p><p>"I thought I said no jokes," she reminded him.</p><p>"That <em>wasn't</em> a joke."</p><p>"You're not so bad yourself," she quipped back, hoping the night hid her blush.</p><p>A fang-tipped grin flashed in Kurt's dark face. "I know."</p><p>She sighed, knowing she'd walked into that one. "Such an idiot…"</p><p>"But you love me."</p><p>Kitty avoided his close golden eyes. "Everyone loves you, Fuzzy."</p><p>"Is that so?"</p><p>"You literally had women fighting over you at the reception."</p><p>She heard rather than saw Kurt's smile fade as he said, "There was a time I would have been proud of that."</p><p>"But not now?" she wondered.</p><p>"I'd rather be dancing with the right woman, than disappointing all the wrong ones."</p><p>Kitty pulled her gaze back to his. "Yeah?"</p><p>"That's surprising?"</p><p>"No, I… I want that, too." She paused, then added, "For you, I mean."</p><p>"Tired of my wandering ways?" he teased.</p><p>"I want you to be happy. With whoever makes you the most happy."</p><p>He blinked at hearing his own words repeated back to him, then said, "I want that as well."</p><p>Kitty leaned closer, to avoid the mystery and scrutiny of his glowing eyes, and to feel more of his warmth against her skin. She let her cheek brush his neck, and felt his nose touch her hair, his hands gently massaging her lower back.</p><p>After a moment, she said, "You were talking about firsts before… I wish we had a better story about how we first met. Ours kinda sucks."</p><p>"Oh, I don't know… it's colorful, at least." He had a point; not many friends could match one person trying to save the life other's life by carrying them up the side of a building, only to be rewarded with a terrified scream before their charge phased through the roof.</p><p>"What are some of our other firsts?" Kitty wondered. "What's the first movie we watched together?"</p><p>"<em>Clash of the Titans</em>. The 80s one."</p><p>"Oh God, really?"</p><p>"I'm quite sure. Illyana—<em>young</em> Illyana—chose it. She had a cold, and we were keeping her company. She claimed I would enjoy it."</p><p>"Did you?"</p><p>"I enjoyed Ursula Andress…"</p><p>Kitty made a face. "Wasn't she, like, old in that?"</p><p>"Says the woman who was recently dating a man ten years her senior. Who is much less beautiful than Ursula Andress."</p><p>"Fair. Okay, what's another one… How about the first time we did something social together—not at the Mansion?"</p><p>"That I <em>don't</em> recall."</p><p>"We went for pizza in Salem Centre," said Kitty. "That place with the old-fashioned booths and the jukebox that was always broken. I had to treat you because—"</p><p>"I beat you at a game of Monopoly. I remember now. Why would you ever challenge me to a game that combines strategy and daring?"</p><p>"Because I thought I would win," Kitty replied. "Obviously."</p><p>Kurt made an amused sound. "You obviously should have bought Pennsylvania Avenue when you had the chance."</p><p>"But you wouldn't let me pay for the pizza," Kitty continued. "When I went to the washroom, you paid in secret. You also—"</p><p>"Told the waitress it was your birthday. They brought you a banana split with sparklers in it, and all the cooks and waitstaff sang for you."</p><p>"I was so pissed."</p><p>"I know," Kurt agreed, nuzzling her hair. "It was priceless."</p><p>"Why do you like pissing me off?" she wondered.</p><p>Kurt's answer was easy. "Because you're so serious."</p><p>"And you think pissing me off is gonna help?"</p><p>He shrugged under her hands. "You ate that banana split…"</p><p>That wasn't quite true; they'd shared it, at her insistence. Kitty continued to stir and smooth the fine-grained fur at the nape of his neck as she said, "I remember the first time I hugged you."</p><p>"No, you don't."</p><p>"What do you—"</p><p>"It was two months after you joined the team," said Kurt. "You collapsed—fainted—in the Danger Room. I was examining you in the med-bay, and when you woke up, you hugged me—vigorously. But you weren't you. It was your future self—Kate Pryde, from Rachel's world, her mind in your body."</p><p>Kitty's fingers paused, then resumed. "You're right—I don't remember that."</p><p>"I was so surprised—my heart nearly stopped in my chest." His words had the shape of a joke, but the execution was hollow; it sounded more like the truth.</p><p>Quietly, Kitty asked, "Is that really how you felt?"</p><p>"It was a long time ago."</p><p>He was trying to brush it off, like he always did. But Kitty didn't want to let him. It felt like she was close to something—not just his fur and warmth, but something else, something important that she wanted to hold and keep.</p><p>"The way time works here," she began, lips nearly tickling his ear, "maybe it feels like yesterday."</p><p>"In a timeless world, perhaps the past matters less than the present."</p><p>"Or the future…"</p><p>Kitty couldn't imagine it—the future. Or rather, she imagined several futures, competing for her attention and belief. None of them were clear, and only some of them were happy.</p><p>With sudden feeling, she said, "I want to stay together."</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>"You mean that?"</p><p>Kurt's voice was a whisper in her hair as he said, "I want to stay with you, too."</p><p>For the second time that night, the world around Kitty seemed to slow, moving at a different pace than her suddenly giddy heart. Once again, she tried to tell herself it was simply an effect of Otherworld, with its weird suspended reality. This time, she didn't believe herself. She also didn't care.</p><p>She bent deeper into Kurt's neck, enough to rub her cheek against his velvet. If her lips hadn't been close to his throat, and Kurt's own lips so close to her ear, she might have missed his tiny sigh. More unmistakable was his tail, bending around her body to lightly press the backs of her thighs through her cool satin dress. Her heart went from fluttering to pounding as she drew her face back, dragging her smooth cheek along his rougher yet infinitely softer one. When their faces finally parted, she felt rather than saw Kurt's glowing eyes, half-closed, yet somehow burning her cheek, demanding she close her own eyes as she tilted her face up, and ever-so-gently grazed his lips with hers.</p><p>And then, the world around them exploded with light—not metaphorically, but literally, accompanied by a drone of energy Kitty knew well. It was the sound of a particular type of teleportation. Not the mutant or technological kind—the magical kind.</p><p>She inhaled a sharp breath as she stepped out of Kurt's arms, just in time to see Amanda Sefton step out of a large yellow portal that quickly spiraled shut behind her.</p><p>"There you are," the ruler of Limbo declared. "We've been looking all over for you."</p><p>Kitty felt quite sure that "we" really meant "I," and that the "you" was addressed to Kurt.</p><p>"We've been here," Kurt answered brightly, still holding Kitty's hand. "Why, is something—"</p><p>"The party's winding down," Amanda replied, crossing her green-gloved hands over her yellow spandex-clad chest. "Widget's started ferrying people home." Her eyes shifted sideways as she added, "If you wanted to leave together, this would be a good time."</p><p>Kitty looked from Amanda to Kurt, whose gaze remained locked on the foster sister and sometime girlfriend he'd loved for most of his life.</p><p>"You go ahead," he said, voice level and clear. "Maybe we could catch up later…?"</p><p>"I'm needed in Limbo," Amanda replied. She didn't say anything else, but didn't have to; given the nature of her duties in the realm between realms, it might be some time before she found another chance to visit. Kitty's heart tightened a little at the sadness of that; Amanda must lead a lonely life.</p><p>Kurt met Kitty's eyes to say, "Excuse me a moment?"</p><p>Kitty nodded wordlessly as Kurt released her hand, and walked toward Amanda. While Kitty pretended not to watch, Kurt placed a hand on the sorceress's shoulder, and led her some distance away. They talked for a while, low voices out of earshot. As they talked, they stood casually, tenderly close, the way bodies do when they know each other well. Amanda ducked her head as Kurt stroked her cheek with his thumb, but raised it to receive the gentle kiss he pressed into the side of her mouth, just wide of her lips. When they parted, she laid a hand on his chest that he squeezed with his own. Finally, Amanda stepped back, and so did Kurt, creating enough room for her to swipe her right hand over her head, opening another droning yellow portal. Then she stepped through the circle of light, and was gone.</p><p>Kitty blinked stupidly at the scene she wasn't supposed to have watched. She was still dazed when Kurt returned to her side, and gathered her hand back into his.</p><p>"Shall we?" he asked.</p><p>Kitty nodded again, not trusting her voice. As they wove their way back through the gardens toward the cathedral, she barely felt the cool stone under her feet. Yet she knew she must be solid; Kurt's grip confirmed it, his thumb calmly caressing her wrist.</p><p>When they arrived in the vicinity of the cathedral, the site was a surreal hub of activity. A few different versions of themselves and many more versions of Brian and Meggan were milling around many brilliant portals representing every color of the rainbow. The crowd got sparser with each tear, swirl, and flash of light, so that by the time Kitty and Kurt were greeted by a frowning Peter Rasputin, the courtyard around the cathedral was nearly empty.</p><p>"My friends—what has happened?"</p><p>By way of reply, Kurt said, "If I had to guess, I'd say the night's revelry has come to its inevitable end."</p><p>Peter's frown deepened. "You were gone for some time."</p><p>Kitty exchanged a look with Kurt, who appeared as baffled as she was. It hadn't seemed like they'd been gone very long, but when Kitty looked toward the horizon, she saw that the moon had indeed sunk below the platform, and an orange glow was rising in its place.</p><p>"Widget is ready to transport us back to Muir Island," said Peter. "The others have already gone." He eyed Kitty's bare feet, and added, "You seem to have forgotten your shoes, Katya."</p><p>"I'm afraid I started a trend," said Kurt, flexing his own bare feet on the tiles.</p><p>Peter didn't seem particularly satisfied by that answer, but let it go, nonetheless. "So you are ready to go?"</p><p>"Katzchen…?"</p><p>Kitty realized both Peter and Kurt were looking at her, expecting a response. "Yeah," she managed. "Let's go home."</p><p>Appearing on cue for once, the tall robot version of Widget materialized behind Peter's right shoulder. Peter stepped aside, and extended his arm. "After you, Katya."</p><p>Reluctant but helpless to do anything else, Kitty let go of Kurt's hand, and entered the psychedelic portal, stepping from Otherworld into the Muir Island storage room they'd transformed into a reasonable semblance of living room. Peter followed her, and Kurt brought up the rear. An instant later, Widget was gone, and everything was quiet. It was also very bright; Kitty squinted painfully into the cruel fluorescent lights, so unlike the romantic glow of the Starlight Citadel.</p><p>"I am not sure whether it is late or early," said Peter, "but I am going to bed. Goodnight—both of you."</p><p>"Goodnight and good tidings, mein Freund."</p><p>"G'night," Kitty echoed.</p><p>Peter gave them both a final long look, shook his head, and wandered off to bed. Kitty watched him go, then turned to Kurt. He still looked happy, drunk, and liquid. He also looked very different than he had in Otherworld. There was no more moonlight dancing across his face, no more etherealness to his fur. Instead he was simply Kurt, former trapeze artist, former X-Man, former leader of Excalibur, and her current best friend. His decidedly bleary golden eyes were still struggling to adjust to the light as he ran a two-fingered hand through his unruly hair and made a futile attempt to smooth out his rumpled clothes.</p><p>"Do you know what time it is?" he asked.</p><p>Kitty glanced at the wall clock. "5:16… am, I think?"</p><p>"That sounds right," Kurt agreed. He usually knew what time it was, something to do with the innate spatial orientation that accompanied his teleportation. "So… Do you want to watch a movie?"</p><p>Kitty stared at him. "It's 5:16—<em>am</em>."</p><p>Kurt shrugged. "I'm up, you're up…"</p><p>He had a point; she didn't feel like sleeping. "Sure, I guess."</p><p>Before Ursula Andress had a chance to emerge from the ocean with her white bikini and hunting knife, Kurt was fast asleep—in Kitty's lap, his cheek on her thigh. She'd changed into pajamas, but Kurt was still wearing his wedding clothes, now even more disheveled; his waistcoat was gone, his shirt was untucked, and the hems of his white pants were crumpled around his ankles above his unique indigo feet, folded together in sleep. Kitty wasn't sure how he'd ended up there. By the time she'd realized what happened, it was too late to do anything about it; Kurt was securely nestled against her pajama-clad leg with his hand clutching her knee, like he thought her whole thigh was a pillow.</p><p>Because she didn't know what else to do, and because Kurt looked heartbreakingly angelic with his lips loosely parted and his wavy hair spilling over his forehead, Kitty continued watching the movie. Except, she wasn't really watching it. While James Bond worried about getting bitten in a sensitive area by a tarantula, she was trying to piece together the very strange night that was. She was sure she'd kissed Kurt in the moonlight, or almost had… Or that she'd wanted to, or maybe he had… At the very least, she'd danced with him... hadn't she? The precise sequence of events kept eluding her, like she was seeing multiple memories overlapping, none of them clear, but all of them happy—happier than Kitty could recall being for some time.</p><p>She continued watching but not watching the movie with Kurt in her lap until her leg fell asleep, at which point she was forced to move. The sleepy protest Kurt mumbled when she squirmed out from under his weight made her realize how tired she was, too. When she pushed herself to her feet, replacing her shape with a pillow, every part of her seemed to ache with exhaustion, as though she'd been awake for multiple nights instead of one. Kurt seemed equally exhausted; he shifted to get comfortable against the pillow, but quickly descended back into a very deep sleep, his tail limp and heavy where it lolled over the edge of the couch.</p><p>Kitty padded groggily to the chair next to the couch, and pulled the throw blanket off the back of it. She draped the blanket over Kurt's sleeping form, then stepped back to examine her handiwork. It didn't look quite right, so she stepped forward again, and tucked the blanket more securely around Kurt's body. But there was still something missing.</p><p>She turned off the movie, and turned off the lights. Then she peeled open Kurt's blanket, and laid down next to him, working herself into the hollow of his body. Without waking up, Kurt made space to accommodate her, burying his face in her hair as he slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close against his chest. His tail followed, looping over the same thigh he'd used as a pillow. Kitty sighed with naked contentment as she snuggled into his velvet warmth, and gathered the blanket around them both. If anyone asked, she'd pretend she'd been drunk. Or that she thought they were still in Otherworld, where everything was magical, and anything was possible.</p><p>
  <strong>~END~ (for now…)</strong>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Did they, or didn't they...? (I think we all know they did ;)) I don't know why so many of these have been "oops, drunk" stories lately, but one goes where one's muse takes one, I suppose ;) Anyway—hope you enjoyed it! This was supposed to be a sexy hurt/comfort thing that I struggled with for weeks and weeks before finally admitting I'm only in the mood for happiness with a touch of melancholia, rather than the other way around. But I may go back to it—we'll see!</p><p>Most of the canon stuff from this chapter is from the later issues of Excalibur. Is this how Otherworld works? Who knows. It's definitely a weird place, so I just leaned into that. A bunch of the details—the Nazis being at the wedding, Cerise slapping Kurt, Amanda being possessive, Kurt being very excited about getting drunk, Kitty catching the bouquet and Lockheed making sure Peter catches the garter—come directly from the Brian/Meggan wedding issue (Excalibur #125). Kate in Kitty's body hugs Kurt in "Days of Future Past" (Uncanny X-Men #141). I *think* this is the first time Kitty (or "Kitty") and Kurt hug (Kurt is very surprised), but I can't for the life of me remember their first "actual" hug (i.e. one where Kitty's mind is actually inside her own body). Would love to be pointed towards it! Probably pretty obvious, but—the song at the reception was "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)" and the movie was Dr. No. A bunch of other stuff was invented by me.</p><p>As to what's next... Always open to suggestions!</p><p>The no doubt extremely badly translated German phrases are:</p><p>i "I am enjoying myself on a beautiful evening with all my friends."</p><p>ii "May I have the pleasure of this dance?"</p><p>If anyone feels like fixing these for me, go right ahead! My French translation skills are passable but my German is 110% non-existent.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Back in the World</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This is set in the aftermath of Amazing X-Men #6. Basic context: Kurt has sacrificed his soul to come back to life and save every other soul in the afterlife, which his father Azazel had been trying to steal in a bid to take over heaven. Other context: this chapter assumes Kitty and Kurt had a romantic relationship before Kurt died. This fits in with a trilogy I wrote ("Parts of a Whole," "A Different Sameness," "Whole into Parts") and the chapters "In Dreams" and "At Cavern X" from this fic. But you don't have to know the details of any of those things to read this. You do have to assume the prior relationship for the sake of the sexy times that happen in this chapter, but that's really all you need to know—it'll be worth it, I promise :) I'm also writing this as though Kitty wasn't at Kurt's resurrection party. Also worth it, I swear ;)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Back in the World</strong>
</p><p>Kurt was drunk. He didn't usually admit that, and didn't this time, either, except to himself. But his drinking companion could tell. Logan was unavoidably perceptive about such things, and many others, including the reason Kurt was drunk. He was sitting at the bar at Harry's Hideaway with the sun coming up, pretending to nurse a warm beer, because he didn't want to go home.</p><p>Several hours before, Harry's had been filled with all his friends, celebrating his return to the land of the living. All his friends except one, who, at the time of his death, had also been his lover. Kitty hadn't come to the party, and Kurt didn't know why. He knew the basic facts of the current schism between the X-Men. Since the portal enabling his return had emerged at the Jean Grey School, he was effectively attached to that side of the schism. Kitty was on the other side, attached to Scott's team. But Scott had come to his party; Kitty hadn't.</p><p>Kurt had made a few gentle inquiries about Kitty's whereabouts. She'd apparently been the headmistresses of the Jean Grey School before defecting to Scott's side. The idea of Kitty running the school made Kurt swell with pride on her behalf; she'd make a wonderful leader. But everyone had either pled ignorance or changed the subject in response to his more detailed queries. It was galling to feel like he wasn't trusted, but worse to think there might be some other reason no one wanted to talk to him about Kitty. Was she seeing someone else? He told himself he'd be okay with that. How couldn't he be? He'd been gone nearly two years; that was a long time to wait, especially for someone who couldn't reasonably be expected to return. But in his heart, he knew he wasn't okay. He'd fallen from heaven to save it. He'd also fallen to come back to his friends, and especially to Kitty. While he'd been cocooned in the timelessness of heaven, it hadn't really occurred to him that she wouldn't be waiting. For him, no time had passed.</p><p>He'd given up asking about Kitty by the time his mother had shown up at the bar, tried to kill his father, and then disappeared with him in a blast of brimstone Kurt hadn't been able to follow, because he'd been knocked unconscious. The party had continued after that, and Kurt had done his best to enjoy it. He was dearly happy to be back, with Logan at his side, Ororo showering him with glittering smiles, and most of the rest of his friends putting aside the conflicts of the moment to remember that at the end of the day, they were family—the good kind of family, that loved and supported each other, through thick and thin. He was always happy when he could make others happy, and bask in the glow of the family he'd chosen, rather than the one he had the misfortune to be born from. But he'd still had to consume a significant amount of alcohol to convince himself to be happy. Otherwise, he'd think about Kitty.</p><p>"Thinking about Kitty, huh?"</p><p>Kurt started a bit at the sound of Logan's voice at his shoulder. He and Logan were the last remaining party-goers. Even Harry had deserted his post; once the sun had started to rise, he'd left them the keys, warning them to pay for whatever they drank, and fix whatever they wrecked. Logan was slouched over the bar in the stool next to his, nursing his own beer. That was unusual; Kurt couldn't recall ever seeing Logan nurse a drink. But his friend no longer had his healing factor; for once, he was nearly as vulnerable as everyone else.</p><p>"What makes you say that?" Kurt asked.</p><p>"For one thing," Logan replied, "you've barely mentioned Kitty all night. Which means you've been tryin' really hard not to talk about her. Which means you've been thinkin' about her. A lot."</p><p>"You're a mind-reader now?"</p><p>"No—but I know you. Plus, I can smell it."</p><p>"Oh?" Kurt inquired, cocking an eyebrow at his very old friend. "And what does my thinking about Kitty smell like?"</p><p>"Like flop sweat on a horny teenager gearing up to ask his secret crush to prom."</p><p>Kurt made a face. "That is a… very colorful description."</p><p>"You asked."</p><p>"And should have known better." Kurt sipped his beer, mostly because it helped him resist the urge to give himself an experimental sniff. He'd showered that morning, but was still wearing his uniform, less by choice than because of a lack of options. Being dead for two years meant he no longer had a closet of things to change into, and borrowing clothes was always awkward, given his possession of an extra appendage that didn't like being confined.</p><p>"You should go get her," said Logan.</p><p>"Go 'get' her?" Kurt echoed. "And—what? Steal her away from her life of toil and responsibility with promises of carefree romantic bliss?"</p><p>"That sounds like you."</p><p>"Not with Kitty."</p><p>Logan shrugged. "Pretty sure she'd like to see you, any way you want to make it happen."</p><p>"Then why isn't she here?"</p><p>"Can't say for sure, but I'd guess it has something to do with me."</p><p>"You still haven't told me what happened."</p><p>"Neither have you."</p><p>Their eyes met for a moment, then scuttled away. The night before, Logan had pressed him on what he'd given up to gain his new body and a second chance at life. Kurt had determinedly sidestepped him, but suspected Logan knew more than he was letting on. Yet he also knew Logan would go to his grave with such a secret. That's the type of friend he was.</p><p>They fell back into silence, drinking, but not drinking, the sun getting brighter at their backs. Kurt wasn't surprised Logan could smell him thinking about Kitty. The other reason he was drunk was because ever since he'd returned from somewhere beyond the realm of the flesh, where his body had been an idea instead of a thing, physical realities had been feeling especially physical. Everything felt stronger, brighter, and louder, from the voices of his friends to the feel of the breeze on his fur. It wasn't unpleasant; quite the opposite. But it was definitely distracting. In a strange reversal of how drinking usually worked, he'd needed to make his brain foggier to make sure he didn't try to kiss Ororo, or Meggan, or Rachel. At least two of those women would have been willing. But he didn't want to kiss them; he wanted to kiss Kitty. But Kitty wasn't there, and he didn't understand why.</p><p>He and Kitty had been together for less than six months when she'd sacrificed her life to save them all, getting lost in a giant bullet hurtling through space in the process. In the months after that, Kurt had struggled to go on. He'd nearly gotten himself killed several times, and tried to quit the team almost as many times. Then, through the help of Magneto and more than a little luck, Kitty had come back to them. But she hadn't been herself. She'd been completely intangible, unable to speak, hear, or even exist outside a stasis tube. The irony had been almost unendurable—Kitty had been back, but as a ghost, her presence as much a haunting as a blessing. Yet it <em>had</em> been a blessing. Kurt had spent long hours sitting next to Kitty's stasis tube, passing her notes she couldn't respond to, and forcing smiles. He'd never lost faith they'd find a way to fully restore her, and eventually, they had. But he hadn't been around to see it. A week after Kitty's ghostly return, he'd died with Bastion's arm through his chest on the beach of Utopia.</p><p>"It's getting late," Logan observed.</p><p>"Or early," Kurt replied, "depending on your perspective."</p><p>"We can't stay here forever, elf."</p><p>"Ja, I know."</p><p>Logan was right; it was time to face his empty room. He pushed himself off his bar stool, which was more difficult than it should have been. Logan had to catch his shoulder to steady him, his hands warm and sure.</p><p>Kurt found himself smiling at his newly vulnerable friend, who'd risked so much to bring him home. "Thank you for the party, mein Freund. I really did enjoy it."</p><p>"Despite missing your girlfriend, getting beat up by your mom, and watching your dad escape from custody?"</p><p>"Despite that, yes. Seeing everyone here, together... it reminded me of why I love being an X-Man."</p><p>Logan returned his smile as he settled his arm around Kurt's shoulders, and led them toward the door. "Don't tell me dying made you all soft. Pull yourself together and BAMF it off. Otherwise we got a long walk back to Graymalkin Lane."</p><p>Kurt chuckled silently as they walked into the morning, blinking into the light. He did, improbably, feel better after a few teleports with Logan in tow; his brain was still foggy, but his body was considerably more capable of walking a straight line. He said goodnight (or good morning) to Logan in the expansive main foyer of the Jean Grey School, and walked the rest of his way to his room, needing the time to think, or rather, to spend more time avoiding being alone with his thoughts. Not that he was ever truly alone; he could sense the Bamfs hiding somewhere, perhaps following his progress through the walls or ducts. He had some control over them, but it wasn't entirely predictable; they were loyal, but remained slightly mysterious, responding more to emotions than words or clear commands. Something about his current mental state must be telling them to stay away, and Kurt was fine with that. They weren't the kind of company he wanted at the moment.</p><p>He reached the door to his room, and paused. His room—it didn't feel like that yet. He was told he had a box of personal effects somewhere, in a storage locker no one could find, somewhere beneath the anti-gravity gym. But for now, his room was just a generic guest room, with a double bed, a single desk, a bathroom, and a view looking out at a memorial garden dedicated to the woman the school was named for.</p><p>When he finally entered the room, he contemplated the bed, but headed instead for the bathroom. He relieved himself, then washed his hands, and gradually froze, transfixed by his reflection above the sink. In a majority of situations, his eyesight was enhanced; he could see further and clearer than most, and in the dark, he could see better than almost anyone. But the glow of his eyes meant that he could never see himself completely clearly; the light from his eyes bounced off the glass, making his reflection ever-so-slightly blurred. But he was used to that; it wasn't the reason he was currently staring at himself in the mirror, curious and intent. He was himself, but new. Reborn. Re<em>built</em>. And he needed to know what that meant.</p><p>Still studying his reflection, he reached for the fastening at his throat, and slowly unzipped his uniform. He peeled it off his arms as he went, but stopped an inch below his belly button, letting the rest of it hang from his hips. First, he reached for his face, confirming the solid bones under his skin and fur. Then, he ran a hand through his hair, feeling the soft waves slide through his fingers, and bounce back into place. From there, he ran a hand down his neck, feeling his pulse under his palm. He touched his arms next, first one, then the other, flexing his familiar muscles under his fingers, making sure things were where they should be, and that the two sides matched. For the most part, his muscles were as well-honed as he remembered them. He'd always had to work on his body; his strength wasn't natural, like Peter or Logan's. But since he'd first started to transform from a boy into a man, working on his body had come easy; his mutant gifts did include a particular facility for building the type of lean muscle that best suited his enhanced flexibility and reflexes.</p><p>He skipped his chest to run a hand down his torso, stopping where his fur met the remains of his uniform. He wanted to properly touch the rest of himself, especially those parts he hadn't had cause to think about in the realm beyond the flesh, not even when he'd thought about Kitty, or when he'd been fighting pirates back-to-back with Ororo, resplendent in the many-colored blood of their enemies. In heaven, that part of him had been present, but absent; there'd been no cause or compulsion for any bodily functions, including pleasure. At least, not earthly pleasure—the kind that was sweet and rough and sweaty and overwhelmingly wonderful… But there'd be time for that later. Hopefully, lots of time; a week at a desert island getaway or mountaintop cabin tangled in sheets and Kitty Pryde would do the trick.</p><p>Kurt shook his head to clear it, and placed both hands on the cool edge of the sink. While he wasn't displeased with the look and feel of his rebuilt body, he didn't quite look the same. Most of the differences were subtle. When he'd died, he'd been thinner and tenser, worn down by stress, heartache, accumulating injuries, and too many back-to-back missions. Now, besides his bleary lack of sobriety, he looked healthy, rested, and, ironically, whole. He'd almost say he looked younger, and definitely felt it. There was no twinge behind his knee where Brian had broken his femur, no tingling in his lower back where shrapnel from the battle with Riptide had severed important nerves, no tightness in his chest or shoulder from the many times he'd been shot, and no scars of any kind—not even from the incident that killed him. All the skin under his fur was fresh and smooth, which was fitting for someone new to the world, but off-putting for someone with thirty years' worth of memories.</p><p>Kurt took a steadying breath, and finally touched his chest, running his thumb and fingers carefully over the flesh that hadn't come with him when he'd teleported in front of Bastion to save Hope. He could vividly recall the sickening moment he'd first looked down at the hand in his chest, and realized what had happened. It hadn't really hurt. Or rather, it had hurt so much, his brain hadn't been able to process it; instead, he'd been bone-chillingly numb, his body a faraway stranger. Since he'd effectively left his heart behind in the brimstone dimension, he'd been dead the moment he materialized. It was only the magic of Hope's powers that had kept him alive for the few seconds it took to recognize his own death, say a mostly silent prayer, and teleport—all the way home, so that Hope could be safe, and he could fully expire at the feet of his friends. But for all his seeming wholeness, there was a new emptiness in his chest. He couldn't precisely feel it, not with his hands, anyway—it was deeper than that, deeper than all of his fur, skin, muscles, bones, or organs. But it was there, or rather, not there. He felt it most when the Bamfs were furthest away, that gnawing hole that wasn't a hole, making sure he'd never forget that as complete as he looked, he wasn't, and couldn't be, not now, not ever.</p><p>Trembling a bit on a wave of nausea, Kurt dropped his hand, and turned away from the mirror. He looked up just in time for his eyes to go wide with shock at the sudden intrusion of a second body behind his shoulder. As he struggled to process the revelation, a pair of deceptively strong arms caught him in a choke hold and smashed his face against the wall.</p><p>He grunted with pain as his cheekbone made contact with the drywall. His body reacted instinctively to free him, but before he could use his leg or tail to trip his assailant, the forearm on his trachea hauled him back, and he found himself looking down at another arm extending from his chest, fingers clenched in a fist. But at least this arm wasn't tangible.</p><p>"Don't even <em>think</em> about 'porting," a familiar voice hissed behind his ear. "If you try it while I'm phasing you, I guarantee you'll leave part of yourself behind."</p><p>"<em>Kitty</em>? What's—"</p><p>"Who are you?"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Who. Are. You."</p><p>Kurt stared at the arm in his chest, at a loss. Kitty capitalized on his confusion to collect her fist and hurl his face back into the wall. At least, she tried to. This time, Kurt was ready. He slapped his hand against the wall and used his tail to throw her off-balance, enough to break her hold and spin himself to face her. It was definitely Kitty. Kurt had seen that expression before, though never directed at him; her face was flushed and practically snarling, hazel eyes blind with the wrong type of passion. She recovered quickly from his counter-move, smashing an arm bar against his chest. Kurt caught her other hand, but it didn't matter; the moment he touched her, she phased, and before he knew it, she'd pinned him again, her forearm at his throat, left hand locking his right wrist against the wall. Kurt didn't bother struggling further; teleporting or breaking her hold would risk hurting her, and he wasn't willing to do that.</p><p>Spit spattered his cheek as Kitty demanded, "<em>Answer me!</em>"</p><p>"I've been told I'm fairly distinctive," he offered, not quite able to convince himself the situation wasn't a joke or a dream.</p><p>But the elbow Kitty jammed in his throat, forcing a gasping cough, felt real enough. "Your name—<em>tell me</em>!"</p><p>"I don't—"</p><p>"<em>Name</em>!"</p><p>He had to twist under her grip to find enough air to answer. "I'm… me! Kurt Wagner—Nightcrawler! Who else would I be?"</p><p>Kitty didn't budge. "Kurt Wagner's dead."</p><p>"I'm hardly the first X-Man they've said that about," he pointed out.</p><p>"You're also not the first Nightcrawler I've met since ours died."</p><p>"I'm… not?" They'd met doppelgangers of themselves before, many times. But this was the first he'd heard about a recent one, who'd clearly made an impression.</p><p>A strange look passed over Kitty's flushed face. "Wolverine didn't tell you?"</p><p>"It didn't come up naturally in conversation, no."</p><p>Kitty's lips twitched, her grip ever-so-slightly loosening. "If you're really my Kurt—prove it."</p><p>Kurt took a moment to consider the request. But it didn't take long to arrive at an appropriate memory. "On Muir Island, when I woke up from my coma—you were there, waiting to welcome me back to the world."</p><p>"That's not a secret—anyone could know that."</p><p>"Ja, but we're the only ones who know the first thing you said to me."</p><p>Kitty's lips twitched again. "Tell me."</p><p>Kurt blocked out everything that wasn't the deep dark pools of Kitty's eyes and said, "First, you hugged me. That must have been difficult, because you couldn't control your phasing. But somehow, you managed it. You cried and laughed, both things at once, until my chest was wet and warm with your tears. Then you pushed me away, and said—if I ever died again, you'd kill me."</p><p>Kitty flexed the fist beneath his neck. Then, at last, she released her hold, lowering her arm and freeing his wrist. Kurt stepped forward as she stepped back, gingerly rubbing his neck and face as he searched for Kitty's gaze. She was blinking dazedly, as confused as he'd been a moment before.</p><p>"Katzchen." It felt wonderful to curve his lips around his name for her; it seemed like a lifetime since he'd said it. "It's <em>me</em>."</p><p>When she raised her eyes to his, they were shiny above her increasingly erratic lips. "It really is you, isn't it?"</p><p>"Ja," he assured her. "I'm here, Katzchen. I'm back."</p><p>"Oh fuck…"</p><p>She mumbled the curse through a choke of tears as she collapsed against his bare chest, clumsy hands scrabbling in his fur. Kurt gathered her gratefully into his arms, his own throat tight as he buried his fingers and face in her hair, inhaling her beloved scent, vanilla and indefinable, marvelous Kitty-ness. He sent his other hand down her back, feeling her lovely shape. She was wearing her yellow uniform, the same style she'd been wearing when she'd saved the world from the space bullet. It felt like no time had passed, like it could have been one of the days before she'd been lost, then found, only to lose him in turn.</p><p>He stroked her back until she calmed, damp nose snuffling. When she lifted her head off his chest, it was difficult to let her go. But the sight of her face made it easier. Even with a runny nose and her cheeks streaked with tears, Kitty looked beautiful—so much more beautiful than his dreams or memories, where she'd been far too glitteringly perfect, an idea instead of a woman. He wanted to lick the tears off her cheeks and give them back in salty kisses. But the most important thing was kissing her. He needed to kiss her. Needed it like breathing, or the new blood in his veins. Needed it as badly as he'd ever needed anything, in either his old life or his new one.</p><p>With the inevitability of gravity, his hands slid down her spine as a similar force sent Kitty's hands up his neck. Her face tilted up, as his tilted down. Then, finally, his needful lips caught Kitty's swollen ones, pressing and slowly opening.</p><p>For the briefest moment, everything made sense—his death, and resurrection, and the place he currently found himself, half-naked and mostly drunk, chest wet and sticky from the tears of the same woman who'd made a new bruise on his cheek and was currently sliding her tongue into his mouth.</p><p>But before he could properly taste her, Kitty wrenched her face away, leaving his lower lip dangling in her wake. "Wait," she breathed, hands slipping from his neck to his chest. "Just… wait."</p><p>"I'm… sorry?" Kurt didn't have Logan's enhanced senses, but didn't need them to know Kitty wanted to kiss him, and do considerably more; the hands on his chest were subtly stirring his fur, distractedly enjoying his shape and texture.</p><p>"You've been gone for… a <em>while</em>…" she said, gaze faltering.</p><p>"Okay…" he offered, still not understanding. "Are you… seeing someone else?"</p><p>"No, but… I <em>was</em>."</p><p>"And this is a problem because…?"</p><p>Kitty collected her hands, and stepped all the way out of his arms. "This is what I'm talking about. There's a lot of stuff you don't know—a lot of stuff that happened while you were... It's been nearly <em>two years</em>, Kurt."</p><p>"And I spent every moment of that time lingering on the edge of paradise, missing the heart I left behind."</p><p>"And I was here, dealing with mountains of bullshit." She shook her head as she dropped her gaze, then said, in a softer voice, "I missed you so damn much."</p><p>"And now I'm back." He knew the solution to their shared grief—they simply needed to fall back into each other's arms, and then fall anywhere else, so long as they were together, as close and tight as possible.</p><p>Kitty seemed to read his thoughts. "It's not that simple."</p><p>"Why?" he wondered. "What is it you're not telling me?"</p><p>"A lot," she replied, raising her eyes to his. "We just… we really need to talk."</p><p>Kurt ran a hand through his hair. Suddenly, he felt very tired. "Okay. Although—I'd feel much more prepared for such a conversation after a shower and a cup of coffee." In response to her questioning look, he confessed, "I am not entirely sober."</p><p>"Oh, right," she realized. "The party…"</p><p>"We missed you there."</p><p>"Who's 'we'?"</p><p>"Everyone. Me, Rachel, Ororo, Logan…"</p><p>Kitty made a sound that approximated a snort of humor, minus the humor. "Logan doesn't miss me."</p><p>"I can't believe that's true."</p><p>"Have your shower," Kitty insisted, turning toward the door. "Then we'll talk."</p><p>Reluctant but incapable of protest, Kurt nodded absently as he moved toward the shower. But he didn't hear the door close behind him; Kitty remained in the doorway, silent and unmoving.</p><p>After a long moment, she said, "This is stupid."</p><p>"Yes," Kurt agreed, still facing the shower.</p><p>"Can we just… start over?"</p><p>Kurt turned, slowly, to face her, and caught Kitty doing the same. "I'd rather pick up where we left off."</p><p>Kitty chewed her lip. She was looking in his direction, but not at his face. Instead, her eyes were wandering across his chest, and elsewhere, as though she'd only just realized how close he was to being naked. "You look, um…"</p><p>Kurt found himself fighting a smile. Kitty had a particular knack for shifting from aggressive confidence to tongue-tied bashfulness. "Are you going to finish that thought?"</p><p>With determined effort, Kitty corralled her roving gaze. "You look good."</p><p>His own response was effortless. "And you look more beautiful than my dreams or memories could ever hope to capture."</p><p>"That's a lot to live up to."</p><p>"Not from where I'm standing."</p><p>Kitty's eyes dropped back to her boots. "Dammit, I've missed you…"</p><p>Kurt didn't want her staring at her boots. He wanted a version of the woman who'd attacked him a few minutes before—flush with passion and purpose. In service of that goal, he kept his own gaze steady and said, in a clear voice, "Prove it."</p><p>Kitty's head jerked up. "Excuse me?"</p><p>"If you're truly this Earth's Katherine Anne Pryde, and not some nefarious doppelganger, you should be able to rise to the challenge."</p><p>Casting an unsubtle glance at his lower half, Kitty observed, "Looks like you already have."</p><p>Feeling the tide starting to turn, Kurt gave in to a lopsided smile. "That was never in doubt."</p><p>Kitty took a breath, and released it. Then she began to move, taking one deliberate step after another until she arrived in his orbit. She stopped there, and looked up into his greater height. Kurt remained still with his hands at his sides, maintaining an illusion of patience that he knew was spoiled by his rebellious tail, flicking a bit too playfully behind his ankles.</p><p>"Be gentle," he said. "It's my first time."</p><p>A delicious smile bent Kitty's lips. "No promises."</p><p>"I was hoping you'd say that…"</p><p>Kitty's second attack was as passionate as her first one, but far more welcome. In a single motion, she seized his neck and lips while throwing her weight against his hips, knocking him back against the wall. This time, Kurt went willingly and pulled her with him, hands dipping further to scoop under her thighs as his tail wound its way down her leg, all of him wanting to hold and squeeze as much of her as possible. Her spandex-clad curves were slippery on his fur, equal parts intoxicating and infuriating as she twisted against his body. All the while, her mouth never left him, madly and devotedly sucking every part of his lips and tongue, and fighting deeper each time, not just heedless of his fangs, but wanting them, a request he was only too happy to grant.</p><p>Deciding he was entirely too warm, Kurt pushed back against Kitty's weight, and contracted his tail to spin her, until he was pulling her toward the invitingly open door of the shower. He walked backward with one hand full of her backside and the other hooked under her belt, stumbling a bit, a measure of his usual sure-footedness negated by his lack of sobriety and the almost paralyzingly divine distraction of Kitty's fingernails raking through his fur. Thankfully, Kitty didn't need much encouragement; she was pushing as he pulled her, hands, arms, and even her feet practically climbing his body, like she wanted to either swallow him or be swallowed. Either was fine with Kurt. But first, he needed to be cooler, and needed them both to be wetter. Much, much wetter.</p><p>As they staggered into the shower, he wrenched the tap open behind his back, shocking them with a blast of cold water that quickly warmed, soaking flesh, hair, and fur, and beading off waterproof spandex, washing away doubt, tears, and the stains of a long day. Kitty's slick uniform squealed against the remains of his until he could convince himself to part from her lips and hips long enough to locate the zipper at her throat, and tug. The zipper opened easily enough, but the fabric clung to her wet skin, stiff and unyielding. She could have phased, but didn't; she wanted him to undress her.</p><p>Kurt slid both hands inside Kitty's uniform to break the suction, shucking it down her shoulders and easing it away from her breasts, cupping and circling each one to free it before peeling the spandex down her arms to her hips. It made a lovely sucking sound each place it left her skin, and blooms of pink that quickly paled, massaged and kissed better by Kurt's hands and lips.</p><p>When she finally stepped free of her uniform and kicked the tangled mess toward the corner, Kurt took a moment to admire the water funneling down her front, struck with a powerful desire to drop to his knees and drink from the wettest, deepest part of her. But the things Kitty was doing to his backside kept him upright. He settled for sucking her neck as she jerked open the final inches of his zipper and worked her own fingers inside, but lost even the ability to do that when her sure hands freed his tail, scooping underneath to bring it forward through the hole in his pants. Without being told, Kitty had always understood how to handle his tail, her touch rough and tender in all the right places, and making no secret of her reverence for his own favorite part of himself (he'd never told her that, either, but was nonetheless sure she knew).</p><p>She was equally reverent with his other favorite part of himself. Kurt dropped his face against Kitty's neck and sighed noisily into her slippery skin, realizing he'd actually forgotten how it felt to be handled by the slim, strong fingers of a woman he loved. He must have, because he couldn't remember it feeling so good.</p><p>He almost made an embarrassingly needful sound when she took her hand away, but was placated when she curved both hands around his glutes and said, in a wonderfully thick voice, "I want to be satisfied."</p><p>"I'd expect nothing less," he agreed, his own hands admiring Kitty's slick curves.</p><p>Reaching above his shoulder for the soap, Kitty said, "Then you'll submit to an inspection."</p><p>"Um…" Suddenly, Kurt was struck with the thoroughly unwelcome thought that Kitty might not be who she seemed. He clearly wasn't up to date on all the latest doppelgangers, and his mother remained unaccounted for after their fight over Azazel. But even Mystique would never stoop to such tactics to torture him… would she? Margali had once impersonated Amanda…</p><p>The woman who seemed to be Kitty stepped away from his body as she worked the bar soap into a thorough lather between her hands. "I need to make sure everything's where it's supposed to be." The way she smiled after she said it, close-lipped and crooked, put his mind at ease; he'd know that expression anywhere.</p><p>"In that case," he said, returning her smile, "I submit."</p><p>Kitty returned to the stream of water she'd vacated, and placed her soapy hands on his chest. But when he reached for her hips, she ducked out of grip, and said, "Not until I'm satisfied."</p><p>Kurt dutifully released her, and did his best to surrender to her ministrations. It wasn't much of a challenge. Within moments, his entire world was Kitty's hands, scratching against the grain of his fur as she rubbed in the soap, then smoothing it flat as she rinsed it, outlining each bone and muscle as she went. She paid special attention to his favorite spots—the underside of his pecs, the mix of fur and hair at the groove of his chest, and his nipples, which she attended with both her hands and her lips. His tail thrashed as she slid the soap into his lower back, and then further, and deeper, rubbing it under his tail, and between his legs, parting his cheeks and knocking against his balls. Then she was handling his tail again, gentle at the base and firm along the length of it. He watched through helplessly flickering eyelids as she gathered his favorite body part toward herself, stroking one hand down, then the other, followed by a careful massage of the tip, fingers manipulating each ridge and edge before pressing a particular spot that usually sent a jolt up his spine, and did. Kurt fumbled for a grip on the wall, worried he might actually melt into the tiles. If he'd ever had the ability to cling to surfaces, he'd forgotten it completely, along with anything that wasn't Kitty's hands and lips, which were both moving steadily lower.</p><p>He didn't realize she was crouched at his feet until he felt her lips tickling the inside of his thigh. He inhaled an unsteady breath as she drew back to attend to the rest of him, soaping and rinsing his hips, thighs, calves, and, at last, his feet, taking each one in both hands and meticulously detailing it, thumbs massaging his arches and joints. She kissed each foot when she finished, lips pressing his ankle and the space between his toes. Kurt finally moaned at the sight and feel of that, the woman he loved so devotedly worshiping a part of him few would describe as beautiful, but felt so in Kitty's hands.</p><p>When she began travelling back up his legs, he dropped his shoulders against the wall, no longer trusting his legs. She kissed and stroked him teasingly at first, avoiding the aching center of his need. He was sure he'd go mad a moment before she applied herself in earnest, taking his dripping cock deep into her mouth while her hands slid under his balls and the base of his tail, uniting all his most sensitive spots in a single damp embrace. He all but whimpered as he slouched against the tiles, and was soon groaning and gasping and running a rough hand over his own heaving chest, as overcome as he'd been the first time a woman had done that, many years ago. That juvenility might have embarrassed him if he'd been at all capable of thinking. But he wasn't. Thinking was irrelevant with Kitty licking and sucking and doing her best to swallow the heart of him while her fingers scratched under his tail, the rest of which jerked stiffly with the rhythm of her mouth, well beyond his control. He had to touch her as he came, knowing he'd lose his mind if he didn't. He moaned his shuddering release with his head tossed back and his right hand clenched in Kitty's soaked curls, almost choking on the water streaming into his open mouth.</p><p>She licked him clean before climbing back up his body, every available inch of slick skin sliding up every available inch of slick fur. Kurt distractedly fondled her flesh on the way, until she settled her pelvis against his, and turned her face toward the pelting water. She let it pour into her open mouth, swished it inside her cheeks, then released it in a thin, arcing fountain that splashed against the wall. When her face swiveled back, she was licking her lips and smiling, subtly, but unmistakably. Kurt didn't groan, but his body did, instantly ready for round two.</p><p>"Satisfied?" he inquired, both thumbs pressing her tailbone.</p><p>"Not quite."</p><p>"I think I can help with that…"</p><p>He slipped behind her body, pulling her tight against his chest with the water pounding on hers. Then be began his own inspection, kissing and nipping her jaw and the nape of her neck as his hands reacquainted themselves with the pert curves of her breasts, one in each hand, circling, squeezing, and tweaking. He rubbed her smooth skin with his fur as he did so, up, down, and sideways, treating her to every texture he had to give. He could never precisely know how his fur felt to someone without it. But he didn't need Kitty's groan of approval to know it felt good. Since the first time a stranger had touched his arm and come away with a look of wonder, he'd known people enjoyed touching him almost as much as he enjoyed being touched. He'd also learned during many teenage trips to a certain private swimming hole that he felt just as good wet as dry.</p><p>Kitty was already panting and writhing in his grip by the time he started on her thighs, and finally slid a hand between her legs. His tail took possession of her left thigh, coiling and clenching while his fingers applied themselves to her need, pressing, stroking, and slipping inside. He sighed in concert with Kitty's own sighs and moans as she clutched his hips and rubbed herself against his fur and his own reinvigorated need, her neck thrown open to his lips, tongue, and fangs. When her release throbbed and trembled down the length of his body, Kurt nearly lost himself a second time in sympathy. Everything felt so new, strong, and special, in part because it was. But also because it was Kitty. Everything had always felt special with Kitty.</p><p>"Kurt…"</p><p>Kitty was leaning into the wall, grasping it with one hand while the other clenched his ass to coax him closer, her own backside grinding against his cock. He wanted to ask her if it was safe, but reasoned she wouldn't be coaxing him if it wasn't; they'd discussed such things in the past. So, with his lips beneath her ear, his hands full of her folds and breasts, and his tail still coiled down her leg, he let her guide him to where they both fiercely wanted him, ducking and tilting his hips to slide all the way into her warmth.</p><p>The sensation overwhelmed him for a moment, but after that, it got better—infinitely better, which made it both harder and easier to take his time, which he badly wanted to do. After a slice of eternity with only the memory of feeling, he wanted to feel as much as possible, for as long as possible—to be caught and swallowed by the woman he loved for as long as she'd have him. He'd missed her so much. So very much. If he hadn't already been dead, the pain would have killed him. While he'd been living, and she'd been lost, it very nearly had. On Earth and in heaven, he'd prayed he'd find a way back to her, then prayed she'd find a way back to him, then done his best to convince himself his prayers were only dreams—just desperate fantasies weaving impossible futures from an idealized past. He'd had to live without her, and die without her, and be dead without her, forever tortured by memories and what-might-have-beens.</p><p>Kurt clung to Kitty's body, and forgot everything that wasn't that. Nothing mattered except holding her, and being able to, his flesh made real by hers. Yet the harder he tried to hold on, the less he seemed able to. Instead of climbing, he was falling, without a net, without his powers, without a partner to catch him. Like he'd fallen into a coma; like he'd fallen from the sky into the snow with a bullet in his chest; like he'd fallen onto the beach at Utopia without his heart; like he'd fallen from paradise, once again leaving part of himself behind, which he wanted to give to the woman in his arms, but couldn't, because it was no longer his to have or to give.</p><p>For one awful moment, everything went black. Then, something miraculous happened. He didn't need to hold on, because someone was catching him, and then holding him, her hands on his neck and cheeks, touching, and stroking, and then kissing the places she'd stroked. Dimly, Kurt realized that what he'd thought was water was tears. He was crying, and Kitty was facing him, kissing his tears. He dropped his forehead against hers, and let her keep stroking his neck and back, hoping she'd never stop.</p><p>Eventually, Kitty turned off the water, and guided him out of the shower. He padded after her, calmer, but dazed, wondering how he'd arrived at such a place, and if any of it was real. He accepted a white towel, then accepted Kitty's help to dry him, her familiar hands wiping his face and squeezing the water from his hair before wrapping his body in softness, and rubbing, slowly, and carefully, like they had all the time in the world.</p><p>Sometime later, he found himself in bed with Kitty tucked against his side, her fingers tracing soothing patterns against his chest. He blinked and shook himself a little, trying to determine exactly how much time had passed. He usually had a sense of such things, the same way he usually knew which direction was east or west, or what one-and-a-half miles felt like. Judging by the light bleeding through the curtains, it was still morning, perhaps seven am. But he couldn't be sure. There was only one thing he was sure of, and that was the rightness of Kitty's shape nestled against his own.</p><p>He swallowed, decided his throat seemed capable of speech, and said, "I am so sorry."</p><p>"For what?" Kitty wondered.</p><p>"For… whatever happened back there."</p><p>"You're apologizing for being overwhelmed by coming back from the dead and reuniting for your girlfriend while not entirely sober?"</p><p>"I suppose...?" He wasn't sure if Kitty's description made him sound more or less crazy than he felt, but hoped for the latter. "Everything is a bit... intense right now."</p><p>"Yeah, I noticed."</p><p>"I'm—"</p><p>"You <em>definitely</em> don't have to apologize for <em>that</em>."</p><p>"The rest of it, then."</p><p>Kitty raised her head from his shoulder. Her hair was wet and tangled, and there was a hint of dark makeup smudged at the corner of her eye. "If it makes you feel better—I forgive you."</p><p>He wanted to thank her, or kiss her, or pull her back into his chest. Instead, he admired every perfect imperfection of her beloved, beautiful face, and said, "I missed you so much, Katzchen."</p><p>Kitty's gaze filled his as she reached for his cheek. "I know, Kurt. I know…"</p><p>He brushed her fingers with his lips as they passed, and closed his eyes on a rush of feeling. Her fingers were as perfectly imperfect as the rest of her—delicate, yet calloused, and slightly pruned from their lengthy shower.</p><p>When she dropped herself back into the pillow next to his, he curled toward her shape, nuzzling her shoulder and slipping his hand under the sheets, fingers tracing the shape of her hips and idly circling her belly button before settling into the space beneath her ribs. Everything about her felt divine, the little things most of all. Like the way her wet hair caught in his lips and fur, and the way she extended her foot, searching for his tail. He happily hooked it around her ankle, making her shiver when he tickled the arch with the tip.</p><p>They were quiet for a while, listening to each other's heartbeats and starting to properly enjoy the calm after the storm. The pleasant lethargy of certain parts of him reminded Kurt that at least some of their reunion had been very nice indeed.</p><p>Kitty broke the silence to say, "You did kinda scare me back there."</p><p>"I know. I'm sorry."</p><p>"You don't have to <em>apologize</em>, I just… We probably should talk."</p><p>"I know," Kurt repeated, tail stroking her ankle to confirm his assent. "Perhaps we could start with this doppelganger that prompted you to attack me."</p><p>Kitty stiffened a bit in his arms. "Logan should have told you."</p><p>"Logan tells me many things. But he never tells me everything."</p><p>"<em>This</em> he should have told you."</p><p>Kurt waited for her to continue. After several heartbeats, she did. "His name was Kurt Darkholme. He was raised by… well, I guess that's pretty obvious. He came from a world where Apocalypse took over. A lot of the X-Men were dead. A lot of people were dead <em>in general</em>. From what I gather, it's a pretty altogether shitty place."</p><p>"Why was he here?"</p><p>"To kill people. People from his world, who'd escaped into ours. He was working with X-Force. Until he betrayed them. Like no one saw <em>that</em> coming…"</p><p>"Logan didn't, apparently."</p><p>"No," Kitty agreed. "He didn't."</p><p>In the silence that followed, Kurt tried to picture a version of himself raised by Mystique. She'd taunted him in the past about the ways he used his powers—how he always tried to disable his enemies instead of harming them. Mystique acted as though he didn't know what he was capable of. But he did; he had to be, to keep himself from doing some of the things he could. A version of himself honed by Mystique's ruthlessness could make terrible use of his powers. So could Logan's hit squad.</p><p>Kitty's voice brought him back to the present. "Logan didn't want to see it. He…"</p><p>"What?" Kurt prompted. He was suddenly very interested in knowing what Logan had thought and felt about a version of himself with no compunction about maiming and killing.</p><p>"He missed you," said Kitty. "He didn't want to see it because he wanted him to be you."</p><p>Kurt didn't sigh, but wanted to. That sounded like Logan. And it sounded like Kitty to want to forgive him, despite everything. It also sounded like himself.</p><p>"This other person you were seeing…" he began. "It wasn't my doppelganger, was it?"</p><p>"What? <em>God</em> no. He looked like you, but he wasn't… No, I was seeing, um…"</p><p>The way she trailed off was concerning.</p><p>"Who could be worse than my murderous double?" Kurt wondered.</p><p>"Bobby. I was dating Bobby."</p><p>Kurt did a spit-take against her neck, and then laughed. Kitty didn't. He propped himself up to look at her. "Wait… are you serious?"</p><p>"It gets worse. I was the last girl he was with before he realized he was gay."</p><p>"Bobby's <em>gay</em>?"</p><p>"Surprised?"</p><p>Kurt considered the question. "Not really," he realized. "Actually, it makes a lot of sense."</p><p>"Boy, does it ever…"</p><p>Not quite ready to broach the implications of that statement, Kurt asked, "So where is this Kurt Darkholme now?"</p><p>Kitty's eyes wandered toward the open door of the bathroom. "Dead. Supposedly."</p><p>"But you're not convinced."</p><p>"He fooled everyone once."</p><p>"But not you."</p><p>"No. But… I wanted to be fooled. When I met him, I kept searching, hoping… I attacked you because I didn't want to get burned like that again. This time, I had to be sure." She looked at him with puckered eyebrows as she asked, "I didn't hurt you, did I?"</p><p>Kurt offered a reassuring smile as he touched his bruised cheek. "Only my pride."</p><p>"I am so sorry."</p><p>"Minus the violence, I would have done the same thing," he assured her, settling back into her body. He had no doubt that was true. While Kitty had been lost, he'd cried hugging a hologram of her; a living, breathing double would have wreaked considerably more havoc.</p><p>"You mean that?"</p><p>"Missing your heart can make you do crazy things."</p><p>"You'd know that better than most." She shifted to face him, and laid a hand on his new heart. "I didn't see, but they told me. They said you died with Bastion's arm through your chest."</p><p>"I teleported in front of Bastion to save Hope," he confirmed.</p><p>"Did you know it would—"</p><p>"I hoped I was wrong, but… I knew the risk." Sensing Kitty was expecting more, he took a breath, and continued. "They'd taken out our other teleporters, but the weapon they'd developed to neutralize my powers only worked at close range. So, it fell to me. I'd been teleporting Hope and Rogue cross-country for most of the day, one teleport after another, trying to get home. When Bastion attacked, I was exhausted. I gave what I had left to give."</p><p>He watched Kitty swallow. "I also heard you tried to quit the day before—after you found out about X-Force."</p><p>"Ja…" He shifted onto his back to look up at the ceiling. "Scott convinced me to stay. For Hope's sake."</p><p>"You always gotta be the hero, huh?"</p><p>Kurt rolled his eyes toward her. "Is that a bad thing?"</p><p>"I just hate the fact I lost you for the same the reason I love you."</p><p>"Oh Katzchen..."</p><p>He slipped an arm around her back to help her snuggle deeper into his embrace, until she was using his chest for a pillow with her bare legs tangling with his under the sheets. For the second time that morning, Kurt felt exhaustion from the whirlwind of the past thirty-six hours overtaking him. It wasn't the total exhaustion of the cross-country journey with Hope and Rogue. But it was close.</p><p>"Don't fall asleep."</p><p>"Why?" he mumbled.</p><p>"Because I can't stay."</p><p>That convinced him to open his eyes. "Why?"</p><p>"Because I'm not even supposed to <em>be</em> here."</p><p>"Ah yes, this tiff with Logan…"</p><p>"It's not a <em>tiff</em>," Kitty protested, "and it's not just Logan." She squirmed out of his arms to sit up against the headboard and pulled the sheets with her, holding them against her bare chest with needless but typical modesty.</p><p>"I'm sorry," Kurt sighed, pushing himself up after her. "It might help if you told me what happened. I'm still quite fuzzy on the details."</p><p>Kitty's fingers opened and closed around the sheets. "I've been training some students. Students who need me, as badly as any students ever have. Logan, Ororo, everyone... the way they treated them... It wasn't right. And I don't know if I can forgive them."</p><p>Kurt eyed her, wondering at her strangely vague description of events. "These students... Is it anyone I know?"</p><p>"You might say that…"</p><p>She avoided his expectant look, but clearly felt the weight of it, her hands still playing with the sheets. At last, she said, "They're time-displaced teenage versions of Scott, Bobby, Hank, Warren, and Jean. Hank—<em>regular</em> Hank—brought them here for… reasons."</p><p>Kurt's eyes widened. "That's too unfunny to be a joke."</p><p>"I know. And it's not."</p><p>"What did Logan and the others do? Specifically."</p><p>"They tried to make them go back to their time. Used <em>force</em> to try to make them."</p><p>"At the risk of sounding clueless—would it not be best for them to return?"</p><p>"Not if it's not what they <em>want</em>. They didn't choose to come here. They should get a choice about what happens next."</p><p>She was probably right; she usually was. But it was also true that where the X-Men were concerned, things that happened in the present were usually about more than that; they were also about the past, as well as the future.</p><p>"That sounds reasonable to me," he agreed. "But I wasn't there. I don't know what might have been said, or everything that led up to it."</p><p>"So you don't believe me." It wasn't a question.</p><p>"That's not what I said."</p><p>"I'm telling you what happened, and you're saying you don't trust my version of events." She looked at him as she said it, eyes burning above a stern frown.</p><p>Kurt fought his own frustration as he met her fiery gaze. "Why are you so angry?"</p><p>"Why are you <em>not</em>? Hank told me you were <em>furious</em> with Logan before you died. And now, you're just... back to being drinking buddies?"</p><p>"It's not that simple."</p><p>"Then explain it to me."</p><p>He flexed his jaw, and broke his gaze. She wasn't wrong about Logan; over the years, he'd forgiven Logan for many things he probably shouldn't have. But he had too many memories of the man he knew his friend could be, and sometimes was. And at least one of those memories was painfully fresh.</p><p>Looking down at his hands on the sheets, he said, "In heaven, Logan would have died trying to save me. I think… he may have <em>wanted</em> to." He met her gaze to add, "Logan doesn't always make the best choices."</p><p>Kitty scoffed. "That's an understatement and a half."</p><p>"That's why he needs us. And why he misses you."</p><p>"He told you that?"</p><p>"He didn't have to."</p><p>Kitty chewed her lip, then dropped her own gaze. "I don't want to talk about Logan."</p><p>"Neither do I," Kurt agreed. "But I do want you to stay. And he seems to be a barrier to you doing that."</p><p>"You could leave with me. Join Scott's team."</p><p>"I <em>could</em>…"</p><p>"That didn't sound convincing," she observed.</p><p>This time, she was definitely right. "I was angry with Logan when I died," Kurt explained. "But I was angrier with Scott. It was Scott who gave the orders. It was Scott who allowed Logan to surrender to his worst impulses—who told him it was <em>necessary</em>."</p><p>"Sometimes, Scott's plans <em>are</em> necessary."</p><p>For a long, tense moment, their eyes met, at once hurt and sad, and mutually exhausted. Kurt found himself contending with the weight of his long absence. In his mind, he was the same age as when he'd left, with a body that felt younger. Kitty was two years older, and looked it—not in wrinkles or other physical markers, but in other ways, hard to trace or define. It had been a long time since he'd thought of her as a child. She'd grown up quickly, and convincingly. By the time they'd formed Excalibur, she'd been a friend and teammate, not a minor in need of protecting; most of the time, she'd been the one saving him. But he'd still felt comfortably older, in experience, if not knowledge. Now, some of that gap had closed. That revelation was disorienting, but not unwelcome. Part of him would always mourn her innocence. But a stronger part of him wanted to get to know this new Kitty, who was older, wiser, and more jaded, but still committed to fighting for a fairer, better world, despite that world getting more complicated every day.</p><p>He released a silent sigh, and leaned toward her warmth. "I know I've missed a lot," he said. "But I've always been a quick study. And I already know you're an excellent teacher."</p><p>Some of the tension went out of her shoulders as she subtly shifted her weight, one foot brushing his under the sheets. "It all started when you died. That's when things started to fall apart."</p><p>"I felt the same way about your seeming death. The day before I died wasn't the first time I tried to quit the team."</p><p>"What made you stay?"</p><p>"The usual... new catastrophes, loyalty to our other friends... and my hope you'd come back."</p><p>He saw and felt Kitty's own sigh; she was leaning against him now, her weight on his shoulder. "When I came back, it was so awful. I could see you, but I couldn't hear, couldn't talk, couldn't touch you... At first, I wasn't sure if I was really back. I thought I might be dreaming, that I might be caught in some nightmare that never seemed to end. Then, you died. You died before I could touch you..."</p><p>She covered his hand with hers, and stared at it, fingers limp until he squeezed them.</p><p>"I felt so good when we started the Jean Grey School," she continued. "I still missed you every damn day, and the Bamfs infesting the place didn't help. But I had a purpose—a future to be hopeful about. Then, we got mired in the same old crap—fighting each other, when we should have been protecting the students. Lately, fighting each other seems like all we ever do. There were so many days where I found myself thinking, if Kurt were here, this never would have happened. You would have found a way to fix it—to make everybody talk it out and apologize, instead of going straight to their claws and concussive force blasts and psychic attacks. Without you... it felt like we'd lost our soul."</p><p>Kurt had been stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, but faltered. With an effort, he resumed his thumb's gentle rhythm, and said, "And now I'm back."</p><p>"What are we gonna do, Kurt?"</p><p>"I'm not sure," he admitted. "But perhaps we could decide later?" When Kitty's gaze flickered, he trailed the soft side of his available hand down her arm, and said, "Stay. For now, at least. Surely you're entitled to a sick day."</p><p>Kitty continued to hesitate. "Scott will be suspicious."</p><p>"You think he doesn't already know you're here?" Regardless of whether he agreed with Scott or his leadership style, Kurt had never known him to be careless; his reputation as a tactician was well earned.</p><p>Kitty rubbed her shoulder against his. For the second time that morning, Kurt could feel the tide starting to turn. Her next words confirmed it. "Will you make me breakfast?"</p><p>"Of course," he replied, grateful for an excuse to smile.</p><p>"Will it be edible?"</p><p>"Probably."</p><p>Kitty cocked an eyebrow. "That all you got?"</p><p>Kurt sat up straighter, to better show off his assets. "Your sick day comes with everything you see here. Boundless love, a fabulous sense of humor, an encyclopedic knowledge of 1930s adventure films, and a very charming smile."</p><p>Kitty was still hesitating, but playfully now, her skeptical gaze dramatic above the start of a smile. "Who could resist all that?"</p><p>Flashing his charming smile, Kurt replied, "I also come equipped with fur that approximates the texture of silk velvet. Some people seem to enjoy it."</p><p>"I can't believe you didn't include your tail in that list."</p><p>"I didn't want to brag."</p><p>Kitty allowed her smile to overtake her, shaking her head in mock lament and blushing in that charming way she had, that erased the weight of years. "I guess Illyana can cover for me."</p><p>"She owes me a favor."</p><p>"For what?"</p><p>"For stabbing her with Pixie's soul sword dagger to free her from the clutches of Belasco's daughter." He shrugged in response to Kitty's sidelong look. "You missed things, too."</p><p>"Fair enough." The hand that had been holding his was running up his forearm, smooth with the grain of his fur, and scratching gently down. "But—we're gonna sleep before we have breakfast, right?"</p><p>"I certainly hope so."</p><p>She smiled again at that, happy and weary, just like himself. Their kiss was slow, and tender, not testing or remembering the shape of each other's lips, but simply enjoying it, and marveling a bit at the privilege.</p><p>With the ease of love and familiarity, they found their way into a tight and tender spoon, Kitty's spine and backside fitting perfectly against his chest and hips, held fast by his arms, tail, and one of his feet. She folded her own arm over his where it wrapped around her ribs, fingers laced and curled. The morning continued to climb across the carpet through the gap in the curtains, but neither of them could be bothered to care. It had been a very long night. And there'd be other mornings.</p><p>"You haven't told me how you did it."</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>"How you came back."</p><p>Kurt blinked groggily against her neck. "The war in heaven weakened the boundaries between worlds." That was at least partly true.</p><p>"I wish I'd been there."</p><p>He'd wished that as well. "You're here now."</p><p>"And so are you. I still can't believe it... Did you really see Azazel?"</p><p>"Saw him, bested him in a sword fight aboard a pirate ship sailing a river of blood..."</p><p>"Um—what?"</p><p>"He also escaped from custody this evening, and is currently at large."</p><p>"<em>What</em>?" She twisted out of his grip to shoot him an incredulous look.</p><p>"We can talk about it in the morning," he assured her, nuzzling her neck as his hands and tail stroked her skin.</p><p>"It <em>is</em> morning," Kitty pointed out.</p><p>"<em>Tomorrow</em> morning."</p><p>Surrendering to her weariness and the allure of his fur on her skin, Kitty sighed, and settled back into his embrace. "Illyana's gonna kill me..."</p><p>"We're X-Men, Katzchen. That trick never works."</p><p>"And you know what'll happen if <em>you</em> die again."</p><p>"You'll kill me?"</p><p>"Yep."</p><p>"I can think of no better reason to keep living than to avoid another date with your fists."</p><p>Kitty snorted into the pillow. "I don't know about this fabulous sense of humor—might need an upgrade. This fur on the other hand..."</p><p>Kurt smiled sleepily as he planted a kiss at the nape of her neck. "I hear it's quite something."</p><p>He burrowed deeper into her body and felt her do the same, fur caressing smooth skin, and being caressed in turn.</p><p>At the edge of sleep, and with his lips partly lost in her hair, Kurt said, "Thank you for catching me."</p><p>"Thank you for falling," she whispered back, then said, in a voice somehow smaller than a whisper, "I can't even imagine what you gave up."</p><p>"It was worth it."</p><p>"You really mean that, don't you?"</p><p>It wasn't really a question; Kitty had to know he'd never lie about such a thing. But he answered her anyway, in English, so there could be no doubt she understood. "Yes."</p><p>She snuffled, squeezed his hand, and was still, except for her breath and her heart, beating in concert with his.</p><p>Before he drifted off, Kurt felt something tickle the edge of his brain. He half-opened one eye to see a Bamf perched at the edge of the bed, wide-eyed and staring. Kurt shot it a stern thought, which was usually enough to disperse them. But this particular Bamf hesitated, head cocked to the side, not quite sentient, but not quite obedient, either. When it finally vanished in the customary puff of smoke, Kurt didn't feel grateful. Instead, he felt his chest surge, and tighten, responding to an increasingly familiar emptiness.</p><p>A few heartbeats later, the sensation was gone, disappearing as quickly as the Bamf, but just as incompletely. Both would always be there, regardless of whether anyone else could see them.</p><p>He’d have to tell her. If he didn’t, she’d find out; if he could feel it, she’d eventually feel it, too. But not tonight. Tonight, he wanted her to think he was whole, the way she hadn’t been when she’d been dragged home from the stars, to arms that hadn’t been able to hug her, or show her exactly how desperately she’d been missed.</p><p>Kurt hugged Kitty tighter, as close as he could without hurting her, and slept.</p><p>
  <strong>~END~ (for now...)</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! I hope it wasn't too disappointing that Kurt didn't tell Kitty about his soul. I tried it both ways, but ultimately felt it was a lot for one story, and have another fic ("Something Old, Something New") that includes a scene of him telling her, and didn't want to replicate that. I also couldn't resist adding just a hint of melancholy to this otherwise celebratory reunion—melancholy, sentimental romance is how I roll!</p><p>There was a bunch of canon stuff in this chapter, but here's the main beats: Kurt gets shot by Scalphunter in X-Men v.2 #205. Kitty leaves the Jean Grey School at the end of the "Battle of the Atom" event. Kurt dies in the "Second Coming" event. The thing with Pixie's soul dagger happens in X-Infernus (a great Kurt story if you haven't read it!). I'm fudging the timeline of Bobby coming out just slightly, but not by much. Kitty gets lost in the space bullet in Giant-Size Astonishing X-Men #1. I'm obviously assuming Kitty and Colossus weren't dating when she got lost in space.</p><p>Not sure what's next—as always, suggestions are welcome :)</p>
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